


From Cracks in the Wall

by Patchlamb



Category: 9 (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arguing, Cuddling, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-15 20:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18080411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patchlamb/pseuds/Patchlamb
Summary: Someone is at the door. Just after the war and before the cathedral, the small group of stitchpunks lived elsewhere. When their supposed missing member is finally discovered, and the silence of the Emptiness begins echoing with new sounds, the group must either cope and survive or let their group fall apart.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally uploaded on FF on Dec 31, 2014. It's last update was Apr 5, 2015. Meaning I began this fanfiction right at the beginning of university. I've since graduated. The story was RIGHT at the tail end, yet for whatever reason, I never finished the last chapter or epilogue. I am going to finish it now, 4 years later. 
> 
> Sit back and read the current 15 chapters, because I'll be updating and marking it complete shortly.

The world had finally gone quiet. There seemed to be a never ending haze of dust over the sphere that was the Earth. The stitchpunks lived in a snow globe that- when shook- sprinkled fallout and dirt upon their uncaring heads. Plants could not grow. Fauna could not live. Was it like that everywhere in the world? The stitchpunks would never know, being too small to ever have a chance to travel the entire planet unscathed.

 

Long before the discovery of the mostly intact cathedral, the small group took shelter elsewhere. It had been right before the death of the final humans and the destruction of machines that they hid in a house far, far from their origin. Before they settled there, the group was limited to One, Two, Eight, and Five. Along the way and in haste to find new spots to stay safe, as the humans and machines still fought, they came across Seven, Three, and Four. Two of the stitchpunks remained missing.

 

With an intact knowledge of how numbers worked, the dolls understood that Six, the number between five and seven, was not there. They did not actually consider a ninth for some time. One presumed Six, if there was one, dead. This annoyed the others, mostly Two and Seven, to no end. They moved on anyways in order to survive. Five lost his eye.

 

But now it was quiet. There was no more need to fear the world. Occasionally they came out to scavenge or check the status of their newly inherited planet. They could then come and go as they pleased. Only if One permitted, though.

 

One was hard of heart and commanded great authority. He used his newly acquired staff more for glory than for any sort of handicap. Seven, Two, and Five were the only ones to leave the confines of the mostly destroyed building they called home at the time. One berated them each time they left, though Seven always stood up to him so that they could go as they wished.

 

It must have been about two weeks since they'd hunkered down in the house. The house itself had two walls knocked down and part of the roof was destroyed. There were rooms with giant holes stabbed into the walls. There was no front door, and all but one window was shattered. Inside the house were stairs to the second story, which led to a hall. The rooms down the hall consisted of a shut away bathroom which was unable to be entered, a bedroom with half a wall gone, and a completely empty room, save for a few old boxes.

 

The bottom floor was were the stitchpunks stayed. The kitchen was useless to them, as well as the living room. The space under the couch and chairs were not tall enough for them. The bedroom on the floor, however, was perfect. The door had been left flung open, and even if it were to close there was a gap underneath to crawl through. They did not use the unmade bed nor the dresser for anything by scrap cloth at the time. Against one wall was a shattered mirror, glass littering the ground around it. The window was one of those broken open. The room had all its walls, if only for a mouse hole that led into them. One had had Eight widen the hole, so that they could feel safe by hiding in the wall of the room.

 

It was a scavenging day. Only Five and Two had gone into the Emptiness, Seven staying behind with the others. They hadn't a wagon yet, using sacks of cloth as knapsacks instead. The mentor and apprentice made them together easily. They could tighten and close them by pulling their strings.

 

“This could be useful.” mumbled Five to himself, eying a shining metal circle in hand.

 

Two walked over, a smile on his face as usual. He looked over what Five had picked up and gave a nod. “Yes, that's a watch battery. We could certainly use batteries. Perhaps we could make some lights!” he cheered.

 

Five nodded back and stuffed it into his knapsack, which he wore like a backpack. “Yeah, it's so dark in the wall. Especially at night. The one window and holes in the wall don't help much, huh?”

 

Two chuckled and walked on, as they still had plenty of space in their bags to fill. “Maybe we ought to search for some light bulbs. Though I doubt we could fit them into our knapsacks, unless they just happen to be small.”

 

Five walked slightly behind his mentor. In the time he had known Two, he had already become highly attached to him. Five was mostly spineless. He was weak willed and easily swayed by a threat. When he told Two he himself was a coward, Two shook his head and squeezed his shoulder, saying _'nonsense. Courage isn't being unafraid, it is being afraid and pushing on in spite of it.'_ He recalled after that, Two had gave a loving pat to Five's new eye patch.

 

A sound drove Five from his thoughts. A little clink had sounded in the silence, his foot had made contact with something. Five stopped walking and glanced down. A squat jar lay tipped on its side, the glass totally stained a dark black. He tilted his head and uprighted the jar. Two noticed he had stopped walking and turned back to him.

 

“I didn't notice that- you found ink, it looks like.” said Two, examining the label on the little jar. It wasn't even half the height of either Five or Two. “Rather empty, isn't it?”

 

“Can we use it?” asked Five, looking at his worn mentor.

 

He tapped his chin with a sharp metal finger. “Well, more writing material couldn't hurt.” he hummed. “Oh, but this won't do. It can't fit in our bags. We'll have to get it on the way back, lad.”

 

“Alright.” Five replied.

 

So they went on.

 

 


	2. Thief

The sun hadn't even begun to set. Still, Two and Five's knapsacks could hold no more, so there was simply nothing else they could scavenge for the day. They decided to head back.

 

The stitchpunks hadn't a completed map. There were faint sketchings of the surrounding area that they as a group had worked on about a week ago, but nothing had been put on paper definitively. At the most, they knew the surrounding buildings and the paths they took to and from the house. Even though Seven and One argued for the right to scavenge or not, One still made it clear he would not budge on the distance he allowed them to travel. That is to say less than half a mile. A mile, for a stitchpunk, was a very long way to walk. Half a mile was a good journey, too. So less than half a mile it was. One did not trust them to find their way back, nor did he trust the total silence of the world.

 

“Ah! I almost forgot!” pipped Two as they followed a ripped up asphalt road. “We were going to bring back that jar of ink you found!” he smiled at Five.

 

“It's pretty close to the house, it won't take any time.” Five commented.

 

“Even if it did, there's plenty of sunlight to spare, don't get that worried look on your face.” laughed a mischievous Two, knowing what Five seemed agitated about.

 

Five shrugged. “You know how One is if we're out too long.” he mumbled, feeling as if he could blush if he happened to have blood.

 

Two shook his head. “Oh, don't you worry about that ol' grump. Look- there's the jar.” Two pointed in the distance.

 

The squat jar had been laying near a pile of rubble on a trail that was out of the way of the road. They had taken the trail when they first set out, but there was no need to take the long way back to the house now. Five gave Two a nod and jogged the few feet it took to reach the ink. He picked it up easily with both hands. There couldn't have been hardly more than an inch or so of ink left in it. Still, the pencils and charcoal they had wouldn't last forever. Stocking up was a good idea. When the ink ran dry they could use the jar for other needs.

 

Before Five turned about he heard a faint scraping. In fear he tensed and nearly dropped the inkwell, his one eye looking for the source of the sound. He saw nothing. No movement, no more sound. After a moment Two called for him, wondering why he looked so frightened. Five called back “Nothing!” then jogged back to him so they could continue moving.

 

Once they arrived, having easily waltzed through the space where a door once was then into their secluded room of the house, the two stitchpunks found themselves greeted with a rather interesting display.

 

With light still illuminating the pale blue of the walls and chocolate wood of the floor, the stitchpunks who stayed behind were out and about. One sat on a bit of brick and the twins sat leaning forward on some drywall near the mouse hole. Eight and Seven were going at it. Those two were the fighters of the group. Where One had social command, Eight and Seven settled things with their fists.

 

This display was not unusual. Eight would not leave One by himself, so he had to find a better way of keeping entertained since he could not leave to scavenge like Seven would. So, to remedy this, Eight and Seven would rough house. Eight had his brute strength and Seven had her quick feet.

 

“Ah, so you've returned.” called One sardonically as he saw the two approach.

 

“So we have!” retorted Two, figuring that One was expecting them to not come back some day.

 

Five sat down the inkwell beside the mouse hole and turned to watch the two dolls fighting. They hadn't stopped to say hello, which didn't really bother Five. Two went inside to empty his knapsack.

 

Seven had escaped a blow from her friend and found a way to trip him. They weren't using weapons other than their bodies, which always relieved Five. Eight and his girth fell with an annoyed grunt, and from the sidelines Three and Four clapped enthusiastically. One rolled his eyes at them. Seven just looked proud.

 

Five finally went inside, bringing the ink with him. The space inside the wall was rather large. It mimicked a hallway. Beams of long wooden planks ran up the wall, and skinny horizontal planks would often run from one side to the other. At certain points the hall was blocked by thin planks, however by work of mice and termites from the past, passable. It was livable. He could imagine not one- but two entire colonies of rats could survive well in them, if rats were still alive.

 

Everyone had their own little space in the hollow. They would sleep on bundled up cloth cut from either the bed from the room, its pillows, or the couch and chairs from the living room. It seemed the inside of the wall stretched on for a good distance, at least to the little stitchpunks.

 

At the end of the last bedding space was were they kept their collected stuff. Found plastics, matches, string, writing utensils, springs, metal scraps, extra fabrics, leather, glass shards, and all matters of junk. For having only lived in the house not even a month, they had quite a collection. There was even an old thick Ipod that they had been trying to break open. Nobody passed this small barrier. Further down was another mouse hole, which One had Five board up for some reason. It had led to the kitchen.

 

Two was sitting down by their junk pile, picking through the stuff he'd collected. Five came and sat the inkwell down with the stuff. He dumped out his own pile of things and the two of them set to work organizing them.

 

–

 

The sun had gone down. The wind blew cool spring breezes into the glassless window outside the mouse hole. In the dark, the only way they had to see was to light fire. In the center of their inside wall space was a a rounded shard of pottery from what once was a flower pot. The pot had fallen long ago before they took to the house, the remains laying outside the mouse hole.

 

There were dry chunks of wood from various wooden objects on top of the shard, which had been set ablaze about an hour ago with a fresh match. Three and Four had already fallen asleep by it, almost as soon as it had been lit. They were like kittens, always lazing about for a while before doing a one eighty and finding themselves in a vat of trouble caused by their curiosity. Seven forced them awake and shoved them to their joined bed.

 

One almost smirked at them. He was staring into the flame, and only Heaven would know what he was thinking about. The day was done. Two had taken stock of everything they had and the new things retrieved that day. One made sure things were organized. Two did not object.

 

Five, driven by boredom, had taken to trying to find something to use to write with the ink. They hadn't any paint brushes nor calligraphy pens. They had a few pen nibs from ball point pens but those did him no good. He tapped his chin, holding up by the weight of one leg and tilting his head. “How could we use this?” he asked himself.

 

He felt her before he heard her. Seven punched his shoulder and stood beside him. “Hey!” she greeted, comically mimicking his pose.

 

Five started a little then placed a hand where his heart would be, looking relieved. “You scared the daylight out of me!”

 

She shrugged. “Whoops. What'er you doing over here alone? Almost everybody's gone to sleep, save for One, who's staring into the fire like it'll give him the answer to the meaning of life.”

 

Five looked back and snickered, before returning his gaze to his friend. “We picked up this inkwell today, but we don't have anything to use to write with it.”

 

Seven turned to the little jar. Five had opened it already, so she gazed down into the thick dark liquid. She tried sticking her finger in it. “We could try this.” she suggested, wiping the covered finger on a stray sticky note. The ink didn't maneuver very well and left only a small mark. “Or not.” She wiped off the access ink on a pink slice of cloth.

 

Five looked horrified. “Oh, don't stain that!” he smacked her shoulder and scowled.

 

“Too late!” she laughed. “Alright, I'm off to bed too. There's not much else to do at night. See you in the morning one-eye.” With that she wandered away to her own little bundle of cloth and settled in.

 

Five shook his head at her then stared down at the ink for a few more minutes. It had been a long day. Perhaps he ought to take Seven's lead and sleep on it. The morning would come as it always did. When the sun rose, he would wake up and go ' _eureka!_ '

 

Five slumped off thoughtfully to his blankets beside the wall. The pink- coming from the same cloth Seven had wiped her finger on- was soft and warm. He snuggled in and hid himself in it, falling into slumber to wait the night out.

 

–

 

Two rubbed his chin. He let out a huff of air and looked at the eldest beside him. One was crossing his arms and sneering down at the thick black spots on the wooden floor. Small holes much higher up in the wall gave way to little morning light within the hollow.

 

“Why didn't somebody wake up?” hissed One.

 

“Now now, no need to be so nasty. You didn't wake up, either.” Two tried to comfort.

 

“What's going on? I could hear One being an ass from all the way across the wall!” Seven joked, walking up. She seemed too happy about her snide comment, grinning back at One's disgusted face.

 

Eight, who was silently leaned against the wall to the side of One, growled at Seven. Seven smiled at him, too.

 

“Someone has stolen our property!” ranted One loudly, throwing his arms in the air. “No time for jokes!”

 

“Ironic that someone who doesn't even want us outside is suddenly defending the things we bring back.” mumbled Seven, looking away innocently. One ignored her.

 

The last of the stitchpunks had finally risen. Five, being drug by Three and Four, was mostly pushed into the group. They hid behind him, sensing the hostility of the others yet being too curious to go elsewhere.

 

“What's going on?” Five asked, unknowingly parroting Seven from only a moment before.

 

“Someone stole our stuff, apparently.” Seven answered with a shrug.

 

One slammed his staff down on the floor, looking around. “Whichever one of you has taken a quarter of our supplies, I have half a mind to toss you out of the wall for good!”

 

Two frowned. “Stop that, One.”

 

“Well, I do!”

 

“You do not.”

 

Five shook his head and blinked, still confused. “But we collect things for _everyone_ to use. How much is gone?”

 

Two smiled at his apprentice coyly. “The inkwell, all but one chunk of charcoal- including the burned wood from last night, half the sticky notes, three needles out of our seven, two cut pieces of fabric, and a single button. The pretty gold one the twins liked.”

 

One grumbled to himself. “Oh, is that all?”

 

Five leaned forward. “What? That's a lot! I-I-I mean it could be worse, but still!”

 

Seven had begun to become irritated with the whole situation. She looked back at Three and Four, who were still hiding behind Five. “You two didn't stash all that junk away, did you?” she questioned like a mother scolding her children for coloring on the walls.

 

They looked surprised anybody had addressed them, then shook their heads so hard that Five almost stumbled from their grips on his arms.

 

“If I find out you did-” started One.

 

Two cut him off. “Then he'll give you a slap on the wrist and tell you not to do it again, so long as it is all returned.”

 

The twins shook their heads some more. Oh, if only they had voice boxes.

 

Seven sighed. “I don't think they did it, we should frighten them so much.” she sympathized, suddenly feeling guilty.

 

“Well who did?” One snarled.

 

Two turned away from the others and studied the floor. “Well, whoever the thief is they took the cap off the jar. The ink spots tell us that. They dripped it everywhere.”

 

Five looked sheepish. “Oh- uh, no, I forgot to put the top on before bed. B-but, I didn't drip any.” he fiddled with his fingers. “At least we know it didn't dry out, huh?”

 

Eight, who had been quiet, hummed and nudged One. One looked up at him and he pointed behind the pile. One stepped around their collection, Two following. “Ah!” One exclaimed. “Look, there's ink spots here, too!”

 

“Perhaps they've left a trail.” Two suggested. “I hope they didn't spill it all.”

 

So, as a group, they all filed out around to the other side of the pile and followed Two. Three and Four, now certain they were not suspects, buzzed around Two and seemed to record the splatters on the ground with their eyes. This was a mystery they certainly were enjoying. One, deciding quickly he was tired of this, stood far behind the group, arms crossed, with Eight. Eight was just as bored as One.

 

Seven looked ahead, her eyes finding the end of the wall a few feet off, and noticed something. She pointed and sprung off. “Look!”

 

Three, Four, and Five all moved swiftly to follow her, Two being unable to move as fast. Seven peeked at the second mouse hole; the one that had led to the kitchen and One had ordered boarded up. “Isn't some of the wood missing?” she asked.

 

Five looked nervous. This was getting too intense. He gave her a nod and glanced at Two. “Two big pieces from the bottom.”

 

“Perhaps even enough to crawl through, and stick an ink pot through.” came Two, who had caught up to them.

 

Five got down onto his knees to examine the partially destroyed work. He placed his hand on the thin wood boards, then peeked his head out. The scabbed planks that had been removed were laying on the other side in the kitchen. One of them looked broken in half. He pulled his head back and looked at Two and Seven. “Well, something really must have wanted to get in.” Thoughts of machines floated into his head, and he tried not to shake in front of them.

 

Two then moved down with him, and Seven leaned over with her hands on her knees. Three and Four watched from the sides.

 

“Look here,” Two said, tapping the furthest plank of wood that was still attached. “These scratches. They're stained with ink, too.”

 


	3. Fishing

The spots didn't follow any further than the kitchen mouse hole. The dolls found out that, indeed, one could crawl under the space that had been made in the hole. It was big enough for a stitchpunk and the inkwell. Dolls as big as Eight couldn't crawl through it, obviously.

 

They decided among themselves that none of the seven of them had taken a thing last night. The last ones to be near their pile were Five and Seven. They knew Five was too yellow bellied to lie straight to One's face. Seven thought the idea of her stealing any of that was stupid, so they took her word. They also decided there was simply no way a mouse could have survived the poison gas, and even if one did, what would it need with what it took, anyhow? A mouse couldn't even lift that jar.

 

Two, being one of the most clever of the group, had suggested that it may be their missing member. One shook his head and called him stupid. If a number Six had survived or had been made, it would have found them already. And if it just so happened that a Six did actually walk the Earth, why on that Earth would it steal from them rather than try and make contact?

 

“Perhaps it was intimidated?” Two had tried. “How is a stranger to know if we're friendly or not?”

 

One had had no more of it, so they left it at that.

 

While the group had decided all that together, it was One who claimed that the only logical explanation was that a machine still lived, and that it must be stalking them in the night, being that machines were smart. It was stealing from them to throw them off. Obviously. He had Five fix the kitchen mouse hole soon after the problem had been discovered. He then had Eight painstakingly push the brick outside- standing vertically- into their hollow so that they could cover their entrance in the night. It took everyone to shove it up into a position so that it could cover the entire hole.

 

One patted the side of the crusty thing. “There. When we put it in front of the hole at night, nothing can get in.” he then glared in Five's direction. “Did you use thicker wood this time?”

 

Five only nodded, too scared of One's wrath and his own fear of machines to give an answer.

 

“Good. If you hadn't used such poor wood last time this would have never happened.” he scolded.

 

Five ducked his head and walked away.

 

Before the sun had gone down, One gathered everyone by the shard of pottery to speak with them.

 

“You all know last night we had something break into our home,” he started. “thanks to _somebody's_ poor craftsmanship.”

 

Two patted Five's back and rolled his eyes, hoping to keep Five humorous rather than sink into himself.

 

“Even though we have fixed that, and have a way to cover the entrance now, I believe it is in our best interest to have someone stand guard in the night.” he paced as he spoke, watching them. “I have decided, as punishment, tonight _you_ will be standing guard.” he pointed his staff right at Five.

 

Five looked around, bewildered. “M-me?”

 

“I needn't have to repeat myself on why this all happened, do I?” One mocked, stopping his pacing.

 

Seven crossed her arms. “Really? Not me or Eight? If we're in danger like you somehow think we are, shouldn't we have someone who, I don't know, can actually protect us?” she looked at Five. “No offense.”

 

Five just stared down and shrugged. “It's okay.”

 

One stepped forward. “I am the leader, and I say Five keeps watch! If there is even a sound, he can easily wake us all up. If something comes clawing at our humble little abode, we'll have time before we must take to arms.”

 

Eight, who stood among the small crowd, looked down on Seven and said “Keep your mouth shut.”

 

Seven rose a fist and stomped at him as a threat, but he didn't budge. She moved back and crossed her arms, displeased.

 

–

 

The fire was still alight. Five was given a measly metal rod with a glass shard attached to the end by thick layers of tape. He felt silly holding it as he stood by the kitchen mouse hole, far from the sleeping forms of the others. But still, if a machine really did come to the door like One claimed, he felt safer with a weapon than without one.

 

Every so often he was to walk to the main entrance and stand there, instead. For some insane reason, One figured he should be doing the work of two stitchpunks. Five thought One had it out for him. Probably because he did. Five couldn't oppose him, though. He just couldn't.

 

So as he stood by the blocked off kitchen entrance, gently fearing for his life and position in the group, he thought he heard something. He looked back down the long hall that was the wall's innards. He couldn't see past the junk pile. The flames in the distance cast bright orange flares all through the hall, even to his current far off, dimly lit hold. Listening carefully, he heard nothing more for some long minutes.

 

Five jumped. There it was again- a faint clicking noise, past the boarded up door. He was certain of it. It was almost like a number of small pebbles had been dropped on the tiles of the kitchen. He tensed up immensely, turning to face the boards and backing up a few steps.

 

“No need to panic, stay calm. Stay calm.” he whispered to himself, unconsciously reaching up to touch his eye patch. It was too soon for him to be face to face with a machine again. Why did One have to be such a prick and force him into doing this? The least he could have done was to let them take shifts, or better yet, allow two stitchpunks to patrol at once! Stitchpunks didn't truly need nightly sleep, but it was a matter of good strategy, and not that he would be tired the next day.

 

Five stood there, staring at the wood with a tight mouth. After a moment of silence he straightened his back and tried to even his breathing. Earlier, when he had fixed the door, he had made sure no holes remained. If something was there he couldn't see it, and it couldn't see him. He was glad for that.

 

_Scriiiiitch. Scritch scritch._

 

Five covered his mouth with his free hand to keep from yelling out. He backed up to the other side of the wall. He was such a coward. The boards creaked a bit, as if something were pushing on them. Lot of good that would do if it wanted inside. He inched bit by bit down the wall with mind to wake someone up, when-

 

_Tap tap tap._

 

The doll stopped. Had it just knocked? A very subtle rapping against the wood had froze him in place. More or less, it was still a knock. Perhaps it knew he was on the other end, and was teasing him. He wondered if there would be a joke in response if he were to call _“who's there?”_

 

Five stepped a little closer, feeling braver that nothing of significance had happened that would imply it was getting in anytime soon. He stood a safe distance from the boards, waiting. There was a bit of shuffling he could hardly hear, and more scratching. He could tell it was pulling at the boards. A thought occurred to him. Whatever was there was coming in the night. It didn't want anybody to know it was there. If he knocked back at it, perhaps it would frighten.

 

So, after taking a full minute to muster up the courage, Five stepped forward, rose his sculpted hand, and thumped against the wood just carefully enough that it would not resonate loudly in the hall. Something on the other side squeaked, the clattering sounds of hard material was scuffling back on the tile.

 

Five, shaking a little, backed up into his safe zone again. That would do it. He gave a stern nod to himself and waited. There was silence for half an hour, so he took to moving back to the main entrance for a time.

 

–

 

There had been no noise at the main entrance. No clicking, clanking, or scratching. Nobody could get past that brick. It took a lot of strength to move it, and if the thing outside could squeeze through a small hole in the door, then it was obviously not big enough to push a brick and get results. One had ordered him to occasionally switch places though, otherwise he'd be at the other end of the hall all night.

 

Five didn't know what time it was. It felt like an eternity. That was the main reason the stitchpunks took to ritually resting at night. They could do nothing in the dark without fear, so they slept instead. At the very least, Five could not become sleepy by his night watch. Being drowsy from boredom was another thing all together.

 

At what Five could only dream was a few hours til sunrise, he was soon once again standing guard at the kitchen mouse hole. It had been several droll hours of dead silence since the noise outside the door. Five actually yawned.

 

This time he hadn't heard any clicking beforehand. The scratches returned, creaking and pulling. He started, the fogginess in his head clearing. Five, knowing what to do, was calmer than before and simply left three swift knocks on the wood. The thing outside didn't scare as much as before, but sounded as if it backed away.

 

He stared at the boards and realized there was a small chip in one of the thick splintery planks. He tilted his head. That hadn't been there before. Five became nervous. He bent over and examined the chip, and came to the realization that it must have been a flaw in the material that had been exploited and pulled out. Like taking foam cutouts and pushing them from their surrounding foam casing, only pulling rather than pushing, as otherwise the chip would be at Five's feet.

 

This deeply troubled Five, as it meant the machine was making progress. He wondered why it would dare come back when it knew he was there. Five knew better than to personify death itself, so he refused to believe it was lonely or desperate. That was sappy; that would cost him his other eye.

 

He straightened up and looked worriedly over to the faint light of the fire, past the pile and near the entrance. The fire had to be checked often, as otherwise Five had no light. He thought about waking someone up, like he had thought of earlier. But something nagged him not to. His curiosity was starting to get to him. That wasn't a good thing.

 

With fear prickling at his burlap, he bent back over and peeked out of the little cut. The kitchen was so dark. The moon, being close to falling, was not shining any light into the room. In a couple of hours the sun would rise and he would be able to see into the kitchen faintly. But 'in a couple of hours' meant his watch would be over. What little machine would walk around in daylight, anyhow? Maybe it was as scared of moving in light as the stitchpunks were in dark.

 

There he was, personifying. He said he wouldn't do that.

 

It was simply too dark for him to see, so he moved away with a sigh. Another glance back toward the hidden dancing of the fire placed an idea in his head. He thought Two would be proud of his probing. Five, standing close to the mouse hole, opened his mouth and gently asked “Hello?”

 

The tiniest of a click came from the inky blackness outside. Like a hand. Five looked down at his palm, picking out his joints. Yes, it sounded like that; like when one would bend their finger, or maybe even if they tapped their thumb and pointer together.

 

“Hello?” he asked again. This time nothing. He imagined the thing outside frozen on the spot, trying not to move and using the blanket of night to keep anyone from seeing it were they even to look directly at it. Clever clever.

 

Five gingerly rested his weapon against the wall and moved quickly and quietly as he could to their pile. He smiled to himself, picking up a spool of thread. Surely the machine wasn't stupid enough to fall for what he was about to try. Returning to the mouse hole, he pulled the loose thread and tried sticking it through the little chip in the plank.

 

After a few minutes of standing in wait, spool sitting neatly at Five's feet, the thread had a tug. Five grinned further to himself. Two would call this fishing. The fish outside had taken the bait, and was yanking the rod down stream with intention to get away with its life.

 

Five grabbed hold at the end of the thread close to the spool, yanking right back. He gave a hard pull and something slid forward before knocking noisily into the planks with a muffled sound of annoyance. He thought he heard it slump into the boards, still jerking at the string but not actively pulling anymore out.

 

“Ha.” Five said to himself smugly. It had given up, and the line went dead. The thread would still shudder, as if attached. Five imaged it had gotten a little bit tangled up. He stood there a moment, believing he heard a sigh. It occurred to his slowly dimming ego that perhaps it wasn't a machine after all. The thought almost thrilled him.

 

With a small pang of sudden guilt he took the glass tipped rod and cut the thread like butter, pushing the end of it out the hole. He waited and listened, and after a few minutes the imagined tangled thing scuttled away.

 


	4. Our Lil' Secret

“Well Five? What have you to report?” demanded One, sitting upon a small block of wood and trying to look regal. That was before he had a crown or cape, so he wasn't as intimidating as he eventually would be.

 

Five glanced away from Eight, who was sitting close by and jabbing a needle at the floorboard. “O-oh! Nothing, sir. N-nothing happened during the night.” His eye kept flickering down and up as he spoke, his expression all too serious. This was a lie. This was an outright lie, and it was killing him. He could faint.

 

One studied Five's distraught face. “Nothing. Not even a sound?”

 

Five shook his head, voice caught up in his voice box.

 

The older doll continued to stare into his very soul, as if rooting around for the truth. “Good. Return your weapon where it belongs and go about your business.” he dismissed.

 

Relieved, Five did just that.

 

It was late in the morning and the dolls had been holed up in the wall for a couple of hours. Mostly all had stirred, other than Three and Four. Two was the one to convince One to have Eight at least move the brick enough for them to pop out into the bedroom, though Seven had to give him a little extra help.

 

Despite One declaring no one was to go far, Seven was a free bird and left anyways. She had been cooped up near and in the wall for three days, and that was too long. She left to roam the building, needing her space.

 

When Three and Four finally woke up it was an hour after noon. The sun filtered through the clouds and dust enough to brighten up the bedroom and shine through the small holes in the wall. Enough light was coming in to support the stitchpunks without need of fire.

 

Five sat at a little makeshift desk made of a thick, flat-topped hunk of scrap metal and some balled up fabrics for a cushion. Head on his hand supported by an elbow, he had been staring at the wall and daydreaming for a while. The twins ended up at his side.

 

“W-what are you two doing?” he asked them as they blinked light in his face. A hand came out to push Three back. They had a problem with personal space.

 

The twins blinked some more and tilted their heads in unison, looking at him.

 

Five shook his head and shrugged. “I don't know what you want, guys. L-look, if you're looking for Seven, she left to do- well, I don't know. Be free or something.” he chuckled at himself.

 

The two settled on their knees in front of him and looked at each other. Five always thought it was a little creepy how they read each others minds like that, no matter how cute they were. “Maybe she'll bring you guys back something?”

 

The twins looked pleased and bounced a bit. They exchanged light for a second, then leaped up and ran off to bother someone else.

 

Five watched them go, then turned back to the desk. He resumed his prior position. He was unsure how long it was he had been gazing into the dark wall before Two came to greet him.

 

“Good afternoon, Five.” said his mentor, walking up and looking terrible glad to be there.

 

Five, blank expression and all, turned and said “Huh?”

 

Two sat next to him, a comfortable space between them. “It appeared Three and Four wanted me to see how you were doing.” he laughed, leaning on the scrap metal.

 

Five shook himself out of his stupor. “Oh. Oh! Yes, they were just over here, looking at me in that weird way they do.”

 

Two nodded. “Don't I know the feeling!”

 

They exchanged smiles before Two went on.

 

“They went to the trouble of coming out of the wall just to push me back in, toward you.” he said. “I would assume it's because you've been so..” he paused, thinking. “mopy.”

 

Five rose an eyebrow. “Mopy?” he asked incredulously.

 

“Ah, maybe distant is a better suited word?” his friend tried, amused by the expression on Five's face.

 

Five let out a sigh, resting his head on his hand once more. “I've had a lot on my mind today. That's all.”

 

Two hummed. “Oh?”

 

A little nod. “Yup. Nothing Three and Four should be shoving you over here for. Don't worry, Two.”

 

The elder sat there, looking at Five with interest. He changed the subject. “Alright. How was the watch?”

 

Five let out another sigh, unknowing to himself. Maybe he _was_ being mopy. “Boring. I hope One doesn't make me do that again.”

 

The one eyed doll realized what he said. Oh, he was making out to be more of a liar in this one day than he had been all the weeks leading up to it. He felt guilt eating at him. He didn't directly mean to lie to Two, be had had done it anyways. Despite the long tedious hours of his watch, he had learned a great deal about the thing on the other side of the door. He was immensely curious. Five would be more than delighted to have another watch.

 

“So nothing special occurred, I take it?” Two asked politely with genuine interest.

 

Five shrugged and looked away. “Nope.”

 

Two smirked at him. He leaned forward a little. “Are you certain?”

 

Five began to tap the finger of his free hand on the metal piece. “Yuuup.”

 

Two stared at him a few seconds longer before leaning back. “I don't think I believe you. You look so nervous. Five, are-”

 

“ _Okay okay!_ ” Five burst, reaching his arms out, palms forward. “I'm a liar! I'm a big fat no good liar!” He ranted, turning to lay his head down and covering it up with his arms, as if fearing retaliation.

 

Two, being the peace maker he was, only cackled at Five and patted him on the back. “N-no that's okay!” he said, trying to send away the giggles. “No harm done, son!”

 

Five peeked out of his arms. “Really?”

 

Two nodded in assurance, so Five came back out of his shell. He held an awful expression of shame. That probably wouldn't go away for a long, long time.

 

“A little white lie is okay sometimes, Five. No need to look so torn up.” Two squeezed his shoulder to comfort him, that dumb grin of amusement still on his mug. “You should probably work on your poker face, though.”

 

Five blinked. “Poker face?”

 

“Your lying skills.” Two elaborated.

 

“Oh. Yeah.” Five looked down, smiling sheepishly.

 

“So!” Two got right on it. “Considering all that, what _did_ happen last night?”

 

Five shifted a little, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. He wasn't sure why he was so reluctant to tell his closest friend what had went on. Perhaps it was that he no longer believed the noise to have emanated from a machine. One had been intensely violent about the stealing. How would he deal with a stitchpunk culprit? But Two- Five knew Two wouldn't be so harsh. Two had suggested a stitchpunk beforehand, anyways.

 

“Well,” Five breathed. “I just h-heard a little noise is all.”

 

Interested, Two gave a small “Oh?”

 

Five nodded. “More than a couple of times. They chipped the wood a little.”

 

Two scrunched his brows. “Who's they?”

 

“What?”

 

The other explained. “You said ' _they_ chipped the wood.' Who's they?”

 

Five stared at Two a moment before it came together again. He was quiet, before finally speaking his mind. “Maybe it's not a machine, like One said.”

 

Two cut his eyes, looking around the wall. One was a good distance off, blabbering with Eight. Lord only knew how that brute could stand One's company.

 

“Well, isn't that funny. I mentioned the possibility to One but a day ago, when our stuff had first been taken.” Two replied, almost vainly. “Is there a reason why you believe this?”

 

Five shrugged, as if not knowing the right answer. “I mean, it didn't really _sound_ like a machine. It just.. sounded like someone trying to get in. Like a stitchpunk huddling in the dark. Trying to be sneaky. And failing.” he began to await Two's response, before adding “Oh yeah, and I stuck some string out there and they grabbed hold. I pulled, and they hit the door.” Five looked off, thinking. “Like.. like something soft, kinda. Not like a big hunk of metal machinery.”

 

Two took in the information sagely. “Hm. Even without knowing that, I thought it was absurd there would be a murderous monster _that_ small. It's Six, no question. Our missing number has followed us back to our little corner of the Earth.”

 

Suddenly Two went quiet, his eyes roaming. One passed them by, glaring in that way he seemed to glare on even the most beautiful and sunny of days. He stomped on to the collection. Two and Five kept their mouths zipped closed, even though One was out of range. One picked something shiny up and waltzed back again, heading once more to his guard some ways off.

 

Five let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding in. One made him so nervous, especially after Five had lied right to his face.

 

“Now, suppose this number Six wants inside. What shall we do?” Two suddenly asked, dragging Five back into their conversation.

 

“Well,” Five began. “We can't just leave'em out there. I bet they're lonely.” He looked upset.

 

“And if they're stealing things, perhaps not so smart about being on their own, either.” Two suggested.

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“If they cannot find what they need in all the mountains of debris in the Emptiness, resorting to taking what others have found for them, then they can't be very well off, can they?” he continued.

 

Five agreed.

 

After that conversation Five felt full to the brim with total worry for the rest of the fleeting day. Before night fell, Seven had returned. She came into the wall with some strange expression of snide knowing on her face. Five had been in the middle of busy work at his bed, trying to pry the old Ipod they owned apart by jamming a small flat-head into the crease. When Seven and Two came up, looking down on his sitting form, he had been ready to toss the driver across the hollow.

 

“Oh, Seven! The twins had been looking for you this afternoon.” Five said upon seeing her. He then realized Two had accompanied her. He set the heavy Ipod and flat-head to the side. “I-is something up?” he asked, noticing the look on their faces.

 

Stepping forward, Two held out a shining gold button and wiggled it in his hand.

 

Five's pupil dilated with familiarity, leaping up to take it from his mentor's hand. “W-where-?”

 

Seven puffed up, jabbing her thumb into her chest. “I found it!” she gloated. “Upstairs!”

 

“This is the.. button that was missing. The one the twins like.” Five grinned.

 

“Mmmmhm!” Seven swayed a little. She was getting an ego. “You know how when we first got here you and me went around the house, looking for stuff?”

 

Five seemed bewildered, nodding vigorously.

 

“Welp, I went up to the second story today. Y'know. Doing my thing. Being cool.”

 

Two rolled his eyes. “Go on, just tell him.” he joked.

 

She _heh-heh_ 'd. “So I went into the bare room, the one with all the dust and boxes. I noticed something in one of the boxes, so I went over and-” she tipped her head toward the button. “There was that! And some little scribbles on the cardboard with charcoal, along with said charcoal. Oh, and maybe a few ink stains. And the inkpot. And-”

 

“Everything stolen was present.” Two concluded.

 

Five looked between them. He stared into the button, thinking. Shock was still present on his face. Eye back up, he finally was coherent enough to reply. “Wow- oh god. What do we do. If One f-finds out-”

 

“He won't do jack shit.” Seven said with sudden venom, crossing her arms.

 

Five covered his mouth to resist a snicker. She could be so vulgar, but it tended to be hilarious.

 

“There's simply no way One would be so cruel as to harm one of our kind on only the basis of taking needed supplies. Why, if any one of us were in that same position, I imagine they would steal, too.” Two sympathized with the unknown stitchpunk.

 

Seven and Two were confused at Five's swift change of demeanor. He hunched into himself slightly, taking on the kicked puppy face he pulled when he was being submissive. Five nodded forward and the two dolls turned about. Eight lumbered their way, and they were lucky Five had stopped their conversation.

 

“One says come here.” he said bluntly in that deep voice upon reaching them, pointing to One who was currently throwing firewood onto the clay shard.

 

The three dolls exchanged anxious looks. Burying the button in Five's blankets, they followed Eight.

 

When the trio met One he assumed his typical ' _I'm better than you so you have to listen to me_ ' stance. He rattled off about how he felt one night of silence was not enough to prove that they were in the clear. Eight was made to close the entrance with the brick, while One assigned the night's watch. The three dolls were just glad he had apparently not suspected that they knew anything of importance concerning their intruder.

 

After declaring his high hopes that Five had learned his lesson, he gave the night over to Seven. Two mostly told him he was stupid to have only one guard at a time when it was more reasonable to have two. So One gave that duty to Two for the obvious explanation.

 

Before One could even start moving for his match, Seven brought up something that had been on her mind since she'd found the stash in the upper room's box.

“ _Sir_ , since we recently lost some supplies, might I be so inclined to ask that we scavenge for replacement supplies?” she sugared her sentence.

 

One scowled. “And wander around in the dangerous emptiness with who knows what? Impossible.”

 

The girl scowled right back. “Five, Two, and I are more than trained to protect ourselves.”

 

Two nodded quickly. “Ah- and remember how tiny that hole in the door was? Surely against something so little-”

 

“Enough!” One cried, slamming his cane down. “I get it. Go out and get yourself eaten for all I care- lose an eye like Five!”

 

Five cringed and continued to keep to himself. He couldn't look at One.

 

“Oh, _thank you_ your highness!” Seven bowed humorously.

 

One crossed his arms. “Sure. Just bring back enough to replace our loss.”

 

“We'll head out tomorrow morning.” Seven then cheered.

 

The three dolls were pleased with their results, waited for the night to set in, then did as they were made to. Five squirmed uneasily and restlessly in bed all night, occasionally finding himself looking at the golden button. Seven stood at the kitchen mouse hole, Two at the front entrance, nearly sleeping propped up by his weapon.

 

Even though there were infrequently soft sounds from outside, there was no significant noise at either of the doors.

 

 


	5. Hello, Neighbor!

One never suspected a thing.

 

Seven, Two, and Five took up their knapsacks and departed their beloved wall when it was light enough to leave. One expected that they would be moving off into the Emptiness to scavenge. In reality, they had planned to go back upstairs. Five was the last to be told their plan, which he was rather annoyed about.

 

Seven and Two had concluded the best and most direct way to get this stranger to open up to their group would be to greet them. Two figured that if they were trying to sneak around, that they probably did not want to be met. Seven had then debated that even though that was probably true, why would they set up camp so close to their home if they didn't want to be near anybody?

 

Five brought up, as they painstakingly tried to get up the steep staircase, “What if they're not home?”

 

“Then we'll wait.” Seven replied quickly. “They weren't home yesterday either. But today we have plenty of hours to wait.”

 

Five accepted that answer. He couldn't stop thinking about the string.

 

When they finally got to the top of the stairs they had to take a short break. Two, despite being made around the same time frame as the others, had trouble with his joints. He tired much easier than the others. They rested for several minutes before journeying down the hall.

 

Seven peered around the corner of the door frame. She stood there for long seconds. Then she held out her hand to motion that they stay before he slipped inside alone. After a time she yelled back at them.

 

“Yup, you guessed right, Five. I don't think anybody his here.” She commented with disappointment, arms out wide to gesture to everything as the two walked into the room. “Nobody's in the box. Boooo. Stuff was rearranged, though.”

 

Five let out a sigh. He didn't exactly enjoy the idea of sitting around in hiding for hours at a time. Though he supposed it was better than sitting around for hours at a time in the wall with One hovering nearby, instead.

 

The box was on its longer side, with the open part mostly facing the door at a slight angle. The top flap was ripped halfway, leaving a big hole where one could come and go. That was where the light reached. The other half of the box's inside was covered in shadow, as the ripped flap hid it. A few more large boxes were in the corner, though they were either closed up or sitting in a way no one could get into them.

 

Five reached idly into his seam and pulled out the gold button. Why did he feel the need to bring that? Five stared at it boredly as he followed behind his friends slowly.

 

“Hurry up, lets go chill behind the box till someone comes.” Seven suggested.

 

Five jammed the button into the knapsack, as storing things in his chest cavity felt funny. He trotted ahead to catch up.

 

The three mostly dropped and ignored their knapsacks when they got situated behind the box. They only brought them along because it would be odd if One saw them leave without them. Seven had brought a small blade, and dropped it like it was useless.

 

Two shuffled around to the open end of the tipped over box. He called to them. “Well, someone has certainly been around. Look at all these scribbles!”

 

Seven called back, unmoving. “Yeah, I saw that yesterday.” She grinned at Five, leaning on the box slightly.

 

Five, who was intrigued, walked back around to the front. He hadn't gotten much of a look in the haste to follow the others. The one-eye met up with Two inside. The first thing he noticed was that there were bits of charcoal littered around almost everywhere, most of it were now only stubs. That had been the artist's charcoal and the burnt firewood they had collected. On the walls were big blocks of shade made from the dusty material. There were few representational images.

 

“Why, this looks like a button.” Two pointed out, placing a finger tip on a wobbly black circle with four empty circles on the paper wall.

 

Intrigued, Five stepped closer. “I bet it's the button they stole. I brought it with me.”

 

Two turned and pointed to a dark corner. “And there are the blankets.” He walked over carefully. “They've been slept in. Looks like a little nest.” Beside the bed was a joined stack of sticky notes. Two thumbed through them, and they had all been scribbled on.

 

Five smiled a bit. “The inkwell-” he bent over to look into the pot. “-is empty.”

 

“Yes, the drawings would explain that. This is oh so interesting!” Two replied, dazed. He was a scientist at heart, filled with curiosity on all things. Even in the gentle darkness of the second half of the box, one could see the ink drawings upon the wall above the bed. They resembled the doodles in the notes.

 

Five straightened to see what he was talking about. He hadn't noticed the ink drawings before. There were lines wavering from thick to thin, making squiggles and strange jagged shapes. They were also very nonrepresentational. One part of the mash of drawings was of a humanoid stick figure, appearing to rest upon a rectangle. The ink looked as if it had begun to fade, so Five assumed that was one of the last of the unknown doll's drawings. The ink must have began to run dry by then.

 

“How- how did they do this?” Five asked with awe.

 

Two looked at him. “We shall ask them when they arrive, shan’t we?”

 

–

 

It hadn't even been an hour. The three, after Two and Five's initial searching, sat in wait behind the box. If anyone were to come into the room they could not see them. That was the point. The floor was a faded wood, coated in a layer of thin dust. Walking on it was as loud as it was in the bedroom their wall held up. When someone other than they three returned to the barren room, they would hear it.

 

Hear it they did.

 

Seven had to punch Five in the shoulder to wake him up. Five sneered and harshly whispered he had not fallen asleep. To silence him she covered his mouth, with Two mouthing _'listen.'_ Someone was humming gently. It eerily filled the room.

 

“Hmmmm hmm hmm... hmmm hm. Hm.” sung the voice, walking toward their general direction; the box.

 

Pupil wide, Five suddenly felt extremely anxious. What if he made a bad impression? He had already trapped the stitchpunk when he had gotten it wrapped up in string. Or, he assumed it did. Well. Not that they knew it was Five's doing specifically. Still, he felt really bad.

 

Seven removed her hand and slowly scooted to the corner. It seemed like she was always the one to look around the bend. After a slow peek she jerked back, grinning. Her eyes shone and she wiggled a bit. That told Two and Five all they needed to know. Two's original assumption was correct.

 

Suddenly Seven looked distraught, scooting back. “What do we do now?” she hissed.

 

“W-what if they r-run away?” stammered Five above a breath, looking pitiful.

 

“ _Shh!_ ” went Two, silencing them.

 

The humming had suddenly stopped, as well as the walking. Five tried not to fidget, for he knew if he indulged in his habit his metal hands would clank. The three were totally still. They probably should have discussed their next plan of action before the other had returned to the room. It was too late, now. The humming returned, slower and quieter, but there was no more light tapping upon the wood.

 

Two looked at Five, thinking. “Go out there!” he encouraged softly.

 

“Wh-wh-why me?” Five asked, fretting.

 

“You're non-threatening, one is less intimidating than three and- get out that button.”

 

“Me? I have one eye! T-that's kinda scary, isn't it?” he argued quietly back, slowly reaching for his knapsack to retrieve the button. “Why not you, you're mo-”

 

“ _Shh_ , go, go!” he pushed.

 

Perhaps they had been too loud. The movement of the unseen stitchpunk's feet sounded as if they were reversing. In a panic Five stood up and with wobbly joints scuffled to the edge of the box. He looked over the side and pulled back. Too nervous.

 

“ _Hurry._ ” Seven prompted, keeping hold of her blade. “Don't be a scaredy-cat!”

 

Scaredy-cat? Five, unsure of the term, understood enough to know she was calling him a coward. Still, the feet were backing away so he had to go on. He took a breath and looked at the button. Maybe if he just..

 

Five quickly tossed the button out around the box into the open floor. He heard it skip, bouncing till it came to a stop.

 

“Five! What'd you do that for?” Seven judged. Two just grinned with understanding.

 

He smiled awkwardly down at her, back almost touching the cardboard. The feet had stopped moving away, he realized. After a second they sped up and came back into the middle of the dusty room, stopping where he imagined the button to be resting. He had caught the same fish with the same trick. First string, now a button.

 

“But..” a little voice whispered, stopping Five's breath. This was going to be weird.

 

He turned, facing the box and refusing to come out from hiding. The other stitchpunks were no longer pressuring him. They waited on their knees. Five let himself fall to their level without too much noise. The strange stitchpunk hadn't moved yet, so that was good. He clenched his fist then swiftly knocked against the hard wood of the floor three times.

 

A gasp. “AH!” _Taptaptaptaptaptap!_

 

The three dolls looked at each other as, oddly enough, the other ran toward the box and found its feet muffled from the board. They had ran inside rather than run out of the room.

 

The three all got to their feet, exchanging confused expressions. Seven moved over to Five and, doing what he had been too afraid to do, walked out from behind the box. They listened, only hearing scuffling inside the box. Seven found herself rolling her eyes. She flicked her hand for Five to come on already, as Two had walked to stand beside her before Five even dared move an inch. He slowly complied.

 

The button was gone from the floor. Obviously the stitchpunk had taken it.

 

Enough games. “Hello? We won't hurt you.” tried a kindly Two. No reply.

 

“Yeah, just because you stole a ton of our stuff, that doesn't mean we're gonna hurt you or anything!” Seven added, waving her blade for emphasis. Two shook his head at her in disapproval.

 

Five, deciding noise was no longer a problem, took to his fidgeting. “U-uh.” was all that came out. He stared at the floor. “You uh, you like buttons?”

 

Seven and Two looked at him, surprised he spoke. Still no reply.

 

“We-we have more buttons.” cringe. Another lie! Though, Five tried to rationalize, they _did_ have more back in the wall.

 

They waited a moment. Two got tired and walked around to the very front of the box to look inside. “We like your drawings.” he complimented. “Why, how did you do those ink pictures?”

 

Five mostly hid behind Two, following behind him a step into the box. Realizing he could no longer take it, Five gave a groan. “Okay! Listen! I'm r-really sorry I got you all, all tangled up like th-that! I just thought maybe if you took the string, I-I-I wouldn't be so scared, since that maybe it meant you weren't a m-monster!” he rambled, breaking under the pressure he had been putting on himself.

 

Two looked back up at him, surprised by the sudden desire to talk. His eyes then went to searching the box for signs of life, while Seven tried not to die of laughter at Five's embarrassment.

 

Five crossed his arms. “So. Sorry.” he whimpered as a last word, ignoring Seven like his life depending on it.

 

“There,” Two exclaimed, keeping his voice down. “in the corner.”

 

Following his finger the other two stitchpunks realized there was a mass in the darkest corner of the box, close to the nest of a bed. It was on its knees and obviously wrapped in cloth, a hand wielding a skinny object like a cane. They could see no features. The cloth covered their head and kept the face hidden.

 

Two delicately took a few little steps toward it, and the skinny object was suddenly pointed toward him as the mass sunk back. Two stopped moving. It was a needle. “It's okay. I'm Two. This one is Five, and that's Seven. We're your friends.”

 

Five came back to Earth. “Put the needle down.” he asked calmly, but with shaky breath. “If you do, maybe we'll give you another button? Like the pretty one.”

 

The doll's hand shook a bit, lowering the needle to the floor slowly. It shuffled a little, the hand going back inside the cloth it was shielding itself with, before popping back out and displaying the golden button with a hum.

 

“Yes, like that one.” Two continued for Five. “What's your name?” Even though he expected it to be Six, it was only right to ask.

 

The hand lowered. The hidden doll must have been studying them, for it was a long time before it answered. “Six.”

 

Two grinned smugly. He liked being right.

 

Before the elder could say anything more, the dark mass removed the cloth from around its head, destroying the deep shade that had been concealing its face. A rather funny display of ragged hair bounced on his crown. “S'okay.” he cooed in such a sickly sad voice.

 

“What's that?” asked Two.

 

Six looked around at the faces and stood up. He was rather short, his hunch hardly helped. The cloth was still held around his body, making him feel safe. He ducked his head a bit and gave a hint of a flick with a sharp finger in Five's direction. “String- is okay. That is.. okay.”

 

Five blinked, bewildered. “W-wh.. oh!” Relief filled his every fiber. He had been obsessing over that for a long time. The notion that his apology was accepted let his mind relax, and he no longer felt like a puppy on death row in the pound. “Thank you.” he sighed.

 

A miniscule grace of a smile flickered on the other's face, before his eyes greeted the silent Seven. He frowned at her. He did not enjoy the look of that blade, only now noticing it. Six's pleading eyes went to Two. “Don't..”

 

Two rose his hands palm forward to show submission. “No, we won't- Seven, put the weapon away?”

 

She complied and tossed it behind her, and it clattered against the wood. “There. Nooo weapon.” Six relaxed a little. He just stood there, looking down and keeping the blanket around himself, button in hand.

 

“Would you.. like to come with us?” Five asked gently, the burden in his heart gone, taking quite a bit of nervousness with it. He beckoned with a hand.

 

Surprised, the funny looking Six jerked his head up. He opened his mouth to speak, looking worriedly around the box.

 

“We have more charcoal.” Five added.

 

Intrigued, Six took a single step forward, nowhere near out of the shadows. He looked torn, like a million thoughts were consuming his mind. Five's hand remained, asking him to come. Finally the little doll, hunching down even further and striking a face of seriousness, walked into the light and carefully gave over his hand to Five.

 

The dolls could now see from the small Six's trek into the light that his fabric was striped, and his optics were mismatched by material and size. The blanket sagged since he was no longer using both hands, confirming he was made from a single fabric and was indeed all around black and white. A very interesting stitchpunk to look at.

 

Two and Five both gave Six a caring smile, Seven was glancing back at her blade. “Now what?” she asked.

 

Six dropped his blanket and held loosely onto Five's hand, his other hand occupied with the gold button. He stared blankly at Seven when she spoke, as if looking through her.

 

“There's nothing more to do than gather up this stuff and go back to the wall.” Two replied like it was obvious, shrugging.

 

“Two,” Five worried. “we can't tell One about.. you know.”

 

The elder nodded sagely.“No, of course not. We won't tell him Six here stole our stuff.”

 

“Wait, wait,” Seven spoke out quickly. “We've only been gone, what, an hour? Maybe more? Two hours? If we go back now with bags full of charcoal stubs and inked up sticky notes, won't that look a little weird? Especially with Edward Scissor Hands over here.”

 

The other two didn't get the reference. Six was looking at whoever was speaking at the time, mostly confused. He lifted his head up to look at Five, eyebrows knitted. “Going back to the wall?”

 

“Yeah, that's where we live.” Five answered. “With the others. It's where you took our stuff from.”

 

“Oh.” Six peeped, eyes finding the floor. “The wall. Like the rodents.”

 

Two studied the awkward acting doll. “There are no more rodents, lad. They died out with the humans. And other living things.”

 

“Even if they did survive, Eight and I probably would have just fought them back out of the wall.” Seven mumbled. She tipped her head and closed her eyes a second. “Wait. We're getting off topic.”

 

“Sorry.” Two apologized. “Honestly though, what else would you have us do, Seven?”

 

She rubbed the back of her neck, staring off to the side. After a minute of deep thinking she sighed loudly with exasperation. “I guess we can't actually scavenge with him with us. And I know for a fact you three won't want to sit around for another few hours.”

 

“Right, right.” Two agreed.

 

“Sooo I gueeessss we can head back home. I mean, if we have him with us we can just say we found him outside and stopped scavenging early to bring him back.”

 

The three stitchpunks agreed on this, took only the blankets and needles, and began their journey back into the hall, down the stairs, and into the bedroom. Wary of Seven's blade, Six had clung on to Five's hand until they were forced to separate at the stairs. Getting down the steps was not a one handed job.

 


	6. I Don't Like Cats?

It took some time for One to admit he wasn't all knowing, and had been wrong about Six being dead. In fact, it had taken him exactly three full days. Despite his new, odd looking hat, he was no more a leader than he had been before. Two thought he was trying too hard. Eight thought Two should keep his opinions to himself.

 

One had swallowed Two, Five, and Seven's story easily. He had them place Six's bedding far, far from the group collection, for obvious reasons. One, even though he still believed the thief to somehow be some sort of machine, had secret suspicions. But refusing one of their kind probably wouldn't fly he realized, after seeing how much the three were babying the new number Six. At the very least he could keep Six away from their stuff.

 

Six wouldn't talk much. The first two days of his joining the group, he would refuse to look into anyone's eyes for more than a second, and tended to keep his mouth closed. He liked Five and Two, though. Occasionally he would give small words as replies, or little hums of acknowledgment. Sometimes Five could feel Six watching him when he thought Five wasn't paying attention.

 

Six tended to refuse One and Eight even a second of acknowledgment, and became quickly stressed out when Three and Four were around, as they tending to poke or prod at him curiously. He was relaxed with Seven, though not the kind of relaxed as he was with Two or Five.

 

On the third day, the same day One began to begrudgingly admit to himself he was not omnipotent, Six finally spoke to the point of actually answering questions.

 

“I remember you.” he said during the evening, sitting cross legged beside Five's bed.

 

Five, leaning against the wall, had been trying to get an old Christmas light they found recently to shine, started and blinked. “What?”

 

Six kept his eyes down at the floor. “You knocked on the door.” he replied clearly.

 

Five took a minute to collect his thoughts. Six had been in his company for a couple of hours that day, shadowing him. Five assumed it was out of boredom, as no one would let him draw on the sticky notes. But now that he spoke Five couldn't help but wonder if that had been on Six's mind.

 

“Six, how would you know that?” he asked incredulously.

 

The stripped doll beside him gave his trademark glance, which lasted hardly a split second. “Cause you said sorry about the string.” he sounded confident.

 

Five let his head touch the wall, staring at the little stitchpunk. He concluded that, since it had been Five to catch him in string, that it had also been him to have knocked on the door earlier. “Huh.” he brightened.

 

This was the most of a conversation that Six had had with anybody since arrival. Five felt honored, and a little excited. Unknowing to how long this clarity would last with Six, he decided it would be a good idea to repeat questions to him he had yet to answer. Two and Seven were scavenging for parts to make lights, so they were not there to ask the questions again themselves.

 

“Six, how long were you up there in that box?”

 

Six squirmed, now uncomfortable. “.. a week?” he replied, not fully knowing himself.

 

“How'd you get in the wall? Did you rip open the planks?” Five went on right away.

 

Six shrugged.

 

“It's okay if you say yes, you won't get in trouble.” Five comforted, noticing his demeanor.

 

“Uh-huh.” answered Six with shame. He lifted his hands, wiggling the fingers and looking at them shine dully. “Easy.”

 

Five leaned forward, elbow on his thigh as he watched Six thoughtfully. “Would you like to draw something?”

 

The other jerked his head up, looking happily at Five. “R-really? One said-”

 

Five laughed and stopped him. “Well, he's just a grump. One little sticky note won't be missed.”

 

Six was grinning widely, obviously eager to get up to do something. This was the most eye contact they had since the day they found him.

 

Five got up from his cloth nest to retrieve a note and a fresh chunk of burned wood. Even though he would be returning to Six, Six had gotten up with him and followed him around, bouncing. They came back to Five's bed and got down.

 

Six nestled onto his knees, charcoal in hand, and stared with determination at the pale blue paper. He hummed. He tilted his head. He scraped at the charcoal. Still the note remained blank.

 

“What are you going to draw?” finally asked Five from beside him.

 

Six jumped, almost like he had forgot Five was there at all. He looked at the other, and asked “Why.. one eye?”

 

Five frowned, surprised by the sudden change of conversation. “A machine almost got me, and I fell. It came off. Two fixed me up.”

 

Six pouted. “Ow.” he gave the leather patch a single pat, gentle as could be.

 

Five ducked his head, embarrassed. As Six turned back to his paper and began to draw, Five went on talking. “You know, Two always tells me how brave I am. He always does that- pets me like that, or on the back or hand or something. Then says something inspirational.” he chuckled. “Two is always so optimistic. I don't know what I'd do without the guy.”

 

“Five!”

 

Five _'eeped,'_ turning toward who had just called his name. Two came to him at a turtle's pace, and Five was thanking every god out there that Two had not been nearby to hear him ramble. Six remained oblivious.

 

“We found some more light bulbs. Some were broken, so we couldn't bring those. But Seven discovered a whole hoard of little Christmas lights, still attached to a wire. We took off the good ones.” Two caught Five up. “Seven went to dump them out with our other stuff.”

 

Five smiled, shock having ebbed away quickly. “Oh, that's great! I bet we could rig those up pretty easily.” he looked back at Six, who was still sketching. “Six here started talking.”

 

Two sat down, watching Six. “Is that so, Six?”

 

Six didn't show any sigh of knowing Two had arrived.

 

“I got him to answer a few questions. He said he was upstairs for about a week, and that he easily broke the door apart. I didn't want him to get stressed out so that's all I asked.” Five explained.

 

Two nodded, studying the drawing as Six finished it up. It was representational, in that it was obviously their mouse hole. The hole itself was a pale blue, splintery shape, surrounded by the solid dusty black of the charcoal. Despite not being a very complicated picture, Six had taken the time to make sure there was no color coming through other than the shape in the center.

 

“That's very good, Six.” Two complimented sweetly.

 

Six finally let them know he was aware of his surroundings, lifting his head up and removing his legs from under himself in favor of sitting on his bottom. He smiled shyly, but otherwise said nothing.

 

–

 

Two and Five worked for a long time to get the little bulbs to shine. Five complained that perhaps they should have taken the entire string of lights, though Two retorted that because most of the lights on the string were broken, the string of lights may not have even worked. Re-designing single lights to work instead, while tedious, was simpler than dragging a twenty foot wire back to the wall.

 

Over all Seven and Two had collected about eight good bulbs. Using thin metal wires and watch batteries they had enough supplies for four of the lights. However, the extra three watch batteries had to be found in the Emptiness following the scavenging trip that originally delivered the bulbs, being why it took so long to make the lights useful. One, after the last savaging trip, would not allow them to go off again for another three days. He said it was better to be scarce of the Emptiness. The less time out there, the better. He still did not trust the silence of the wall, even though there had been nothing trying to pry inside at night for some time.

 

On that trip they brought back another pot of ink along with the batteries, and Two did well to shove a few good slivers of torn paper into his knapsack, too. Even though Six did not say he made his previous ink drawings with his fingers, Two knew he did. There was no way he couldn't have. Two wanted to watch him work, and knew that One would never allow the striped doll to use up any more of their sticky notes.

 

Six was overjoyed.

 

By the time the four lights had been rigged to shine, making it easy to move the wires to turn them off or on, Six had already used up all the paper Two gave to him.

 

“Drat,” Two complained with good humor as they returned to the far end that was Six's spot in the wall. “I shouldn't have given him the ink until we had finished, so I could have watched him as he drew.”

 

Five was amused with his mentor. He bent over, tilting his head at Six. The little doll was apparently busy with staring up at the deep ceiling, laying upon his back on his blankets. “Six.” Five encouraged. “What are you doing?”

 

Six turned his head and blinked at Five, noticing he had company. He sat up and smiled like he'd seen the most awe inspiring spectacle, and pointed at his drawings on the floor. Two was already examining them from where he stood, hovering above them but not touching. Five straightened up and shuffled over next to his elder friend.

 

“Why Six, you finally started to draw things from real life.” Two pointed out without malice.

 

Among the jagged looking doodlings were strange depictions of objects, figures, and stitchpunks. One paper was a dynamic, rather detailed image of what was obviously the upstairs hallway, two small dark humanoids standing against the wall beside a door frame.

 

Six had gotten up, and slipped between Two and Five. Despite his more relaxed nature since being around them for almost a week, he still retained his hunch and fragile way of speaking. Six pointed at a small scrap of paper, bouncing a bit. “Drew Five. No eye, see? Ow.” he boasted.

 

They found that Six had indeed scribbled a crude drawing of Five. It was a bust, with Five looking very happy even though where his patch should have been was a dark spot and mass of wires.

 

Five chuckled coyly and tried hard not to frown. He could feel the pain in his head when he looked at the picture, yet was still highly flattered that Six would draw him. “Why.. why did you draw me without my eye patch?” he asked delicately, not wanting to offend.

 

Six looked up at him, confused. He appeared to believe the answer obvious. “Very brave, like Two says. That is why!” he looked back at the picture, squatting down. “See, you are smiling, not sad.” again he gave Five a big awe struck grin, looking almost as happy as Five did in his picture. He was proud of his work.

 

Five couldn't help but return the happiness, but had to look away before he ending up stuttering in embarrassment.

 

Two had been quiet about Five's picture, and shifted to be at Six's level, sitting carefully on his knees. He brought a hand to his mouth. “Is that One?” he pointed.

 

A One-like figure rested high on a throne, his strange hat planted on his head, staff in hand, and something almost like a button clasping a cloth over his back was displayed at the chest. His eyes were eerily blank.

 

Six nodded with great enthusiasm. “Uh-huh.”

 

Two cackled and Five had to cover his face to muffle his laughter. One was certainly not that regal! Six, not totally understanding, let their joy keep him from questioning.

 

After their laughter had subsided, they reviewed the rest of the drawings individually. Six was one of the most creative minds they had in their wall, said Two, and he was certainly the only artistically creative one.

 

After a few minutes of shuffling through the images and having Six occasionally say something of them, Two came to the final picture. A big black cat covered most of the scrap, little droplets of dark ink dotted here and there. It was mostly colored in, if not for the big almond eyes and the scribbled in, scratchy pupils. It had a mouse in it's mouth, and a mouse at it's paw. The mice both had comically X-ed out eyes. That was the more violent drawing in the lot, after Five's.

 

When Two stared at it as he tended to do with each of the papers before commenting, Six frowned and became visibly confused. He gaped at the picture. “I don't.. like cats?” he said, more of a question than a general statement.

 

Two looked over at the other, then up at Five. Five got down beside Six and patted his shoulder gently. “It's okay, Six.” he comforted. “Cat's aren't alive anymore.”

 

Six pouted. He stared at the picture for a long, long time, while Two and Five let him be quiet. He then seemed agitated, snatched the picture from Two, then ripped it into pieces, much to the other two dolls surprise.

 

Two, wide-eyed, decided that they might be better off to leave the now upset Six alone. He stood up, his joints clicking and aching from being in that position so long, and began to suggest to Five that they let Six be for a time. Six planted his forehead against Five's shoulder before Two got a word out, groaning. He still held a small sliver of the paper in one of his black blotched hands.

 

“S-six?” Five asked nervously, taken back by Six's sudden need for physical contact. “Are you alright?”

 

He shook his head against Five's shoulder, almost like a nuzzle.

 

Two watched them worriedly. He knew Six wasn't much like any of the other stitchpunks. They all had their quirks, but it was Six who was the most off, at least in comparison to the others. He was sensitive and anxious multiplied by ten.

 

Five, not knowing all what to do, slowly put his arm around the smaller and rested his hand on his shoulder. “Uh. There there. It's okay.” he tried. Six just shook his head again.

 

The elder stitchpunk sighed, figuring Five had this situation in his hands. While not wanting to leave, he knew if anyone was as sensitive as Six, it was Five. “I hope you feel better, Six. I enjoyed your art.” Two said honestly, before exchanging a final look with Five and walking away.

 

Five was aghast that Two would leave him to comfort their strange friend Six all by himself. Did Two really think he, the embodiment of self-pity and worry, could make an upset Six feel better?

 

He sat there awkwardly, arm still around Six, and Six's head still against his shoulder. Five whined. He rubbed Six's arm. “You want to talk about it?”

 

Six removed his head, still pouting and looking as if he could cry, and shrugged. He glanced at the bit of paper in his hand. “Can't sleep very well.”

 

Five had to clear his head, the puppy dog face distracting him. Was that all? “Oh, w-why's that? We have extra blankets if y-you're cold at night. Or you could.. not sleep at all?”

 

The smaller looked away, staring into his drawings. “But,” he whined. “no sleeping makes me sleepy.”

 

“Really? Huh.” Five commented. Maybe Six worked differently. Or maybe Six just got bored easier than the others, and tended to become drowsy.

 

Suddenly Six turned back to Five. He was so close Five could feel the gentle heat irradiating from his working mechanics. “Five!” he started loudly, crumpling the sliver of paper in his fist. “What do I do? You know things.”

 

The one-eye leaned back slightly. His mind was oddly fuzzy. “Um, uh, yes?” he replied before the words even sunk in.

 

“Can help me, then? Yes?” Six gave a nod.

 

Five shrugged a stuttered. “I-I-I can try!”

 

The peaceful look returned to Six's face, and he relaxed. “Thank you Five.” he said gratefully, putting his forehead back on Five's shoulder and sighing. He acted as if Five had just solved all his problems right on the spot.

 

Five smiled, chest fluttery from Six's praise. About an hour later, and after the butterflies flew away, it hit him that he really had no idea how to help Six in the slightest.

 


	7. It Lives

Over the course of the next week Five tried to help Six out. He gave Six a little stuffed “doll” he made by himself with extra materiel his bed was made from, and Six loved it despite the fact it was such a poor job. He thought perhaps Six would sleep easier if he had a friend to rest with at night. Well. Two said that worked with human children. Six named it Squeakers, which Five found odd since it didn't actually make any noise.

 

It turned out the doll was not useful in the slightest when it came to getting to sleep, but gave Six a bit of entertainment when he found himself unable to close his eyes. Six even drew a crude face on its lousy excuse for a head. Crosses for the eyes, a wobbly lopsided smirk, and lines on the cheeks that Six said were supposed to resemble whiskers. The pink thing, even though almost useless, was still a beloved gift.

 

The next attempt to help him, Five suggested maybe Six needed less light, and should try sleeping under the covers. His example was that he himself sometimes found the flame from the fire to be a little too bright for him to sleep, and he would cover his face and then find himself drifting off in no time. Six tried this. The next morning he was yawning profusely and told Five that it hadn't worked, and only made him rather restless from lack of visual stimulation. Five asked him what did he needed visual stimulation for if he was trying to keep his eyes closed. Six had seemed enlightened.

 

Two told Five that a lullaby could also help one fall asleep. That was another thing humans would do for their children when they would not rest. Five shot that down real fast. Two said the next best thing might be a music box, though they hadn't a music box in the wall. The idea was left alone.

 

Five also tried suggesting that Six try and remove the heavy key about his neck, for if one goes to bed and are uncomfortable, they certainly cannot sleep. Six was confused, clung onto his key, and told him that would not work. He needed his key. Five didn't question much further.

 

Half way into the week Five realized he was out of good ideas. He sat on the flat surface of their desk, head propped by both his elbows upon his knees, and sighed. “I just- don't know how else to help you.” he admitted to Six, who was sitting nestled on the bundled up cloth at the foot of the metal desk.

 

Six poked at his fingers. “S'okay Five.” he reached out and patted his leg affectionately.

 

Five smiled down at him. “You're too sweet sometimes.” came out all too cloy.

 

Six blinked up at him, before realizing what he said and found himself staring down bashfully. “You, too.” he replied above a breath.

 

There was an awkward silence between them. Those had been happening more and more often, and Five wanted desperately to fill them with words. Instead he ended up reaching out and messing up Six's mop of hair with his hand, causing the other to playfully swat it away.

 

“I'll figure something out. Eventually.” he sighed once more, staring off down the long hall. He noticed Three and Four pulling on something in a very serious session of tug-o-war. “Maybe we ought to ask the twins?” Five suggested, smirk present in even his tone of voice.

 

Six shook his head quickly. “No! No Three and Four! Three and Four still poke me.” he frowned.

 

Five laughed with vigor. “I was only kidding, Six! Don't make that face!”

 

The other took a moment to contemplate this, then gave a short mirthful laugh too.

 

Five laid his hands behind him on the metal surface. He drummed his fingers. “Hmmm. I haven't asked Seven yet.”

 

Six tilted his head. “Is.. is this another.. joke?” he asked honestly.

 

“No, I really mean it. She's smart, y'know.” Five replied back.

 

“Paper?”

 

Five knitted his eyebrows. “Huh? Paper?”

 

Six looked down, his eyes studying the ground hard. He met Five's eye again, thinking intensely. “Uh-uh-uh.. paper. When.. more paper? For me?”

 

Sometimes Six did that. He would, seemingly out of nowhere, change the subject. Five was uncertain if Six knew he did it, or if he perhaps would forget the current conversation and move on. In any case Five didn't point it out.

 

“Oh! Yes, paper. To draw.” he squinted his eye. “I thhhhink Two wanted to go out again in a few days. We need more batteries, that's for sure. We can get you paper then. Maybe look for more ink, something with color in it.”

 

Six clapped his hands lightly. “Yay!” he scooted forward and nuzzled Five's leg. “Yaaaaaay.”

 

“Yeah. You're welcome.” he smiled, patting his back and feeling warm.

 

\--

 

The one-eye would have asked Seven for advice that night if he hadn't gone to bed so early. She had been out most of the day and come back later than usual after dark, with a grim expression unknowing to the sleeping Five. He had told himself to remember to ask her in the morning, and worried for her return as he had drifted off.

 

When Five finally arose from the blackness the next morn he found Six nearby, sitting against the wall with one of his blankets drawn around him. He appeared extremely troubled and spaced out.

 

Five, sitting up in bed and confused, rubbed around his optic with drowsiness still in his mind. He hazily watched the unmoving Six a few inches away from his covers. He couldn't make sense of why Six looked so distraught and languid, other than he perhaps had another sleepless night.

 

“Six?” Five called softly, kicking back his covers from over his legs. When the other did not look at him or speak, he called out again.

 

“Ah!” startled the upset doll, coming out of his head. He dropped the blanket from around his shoulders, revealing that he had even brought the doll Squeakers with him. Some tension left his body, but not much. He did not move from where he sat. “G-good morning!”

 

Five folded his legs. “Trouble sleeping again? You didn't sleep over here last night, did you?” asked the concerned doll.

 

Six was once more returned to his despairing expression. He picked his blanket back up and covered himself to hide his face, groaning. Five would think it humorous if it weren't for how serious Six seemed.

 

Five scooted over off his covers and nudged him. “I'll take that as a yes?”

 

The little doll removed the cover from his head and looked like he was in utter turmoil, pouting and twitching as if he would begin to bawl. Rather than answer the question, he wheezed “O-O-One is mad at meeee! Five, don't be ma-ma-maaad!”

 

Five's hands went to the stressed doll's shoulders, and he let one smooth his cheek in comfort. “Hey hey, it's okay, I won't get mad. What did One do?” he urged in a murmur, as if speaking too loud might break Six.

 

Six fidgeted uncomfortably for a while, now unable to keep eye contact. “Yelled at me.” he whimpered. “Bu-but, couldn't help it! Couldn't help it!”

 

Even though Five hated One with every fiber of his body, he had to know the reason behind his actions. One could be very irrational, in Five's opinion. Even so, surely he wouldn't reduce Six to a blubbering mess for something stupid. “It's okay Six, why would he yell at you?”

 

“Don't be mad!”

 

“Shh, I won't be mad. Did you do something?”

 

He hugged his blanket tightly, voice caught in his voice box. He stood up and began to walk unsteadily away, giving Five tiny glances to explain he wanted him to follow. Eventually Six had led Five across the hollow to his bedding, avoiding others in the wall. There were small pale blue papers about his bed that were obviously sticky notes. Six stood there and stared darkly down at them.

 

Five, from beside Six, crossed his arms. “Oh. I.. see.” he mumbled. The notes had been covered in sharp black sketches, and there were even blotches of ink stained in the floor. When he looked over at his silent companion he realized Six's fabric matched the flooring; black stains spotted and streaked around his head, as if he had been pulling wet fingers through his hair.

 

Five sighed and rubbed Six's back through his blanket. He still wouldn't look up at him. “It's alright Six, but.. why would you do this? I told you we'd get you more paper.” he reasoned gently, keeping calm. Perhaps he had, somewhere in his mind, expected this to happen at one point.

 

“I..” Six started. He acted nervous, then rose the hand that wasn't holding onto Squeakers from under the blankets to pick at his head.

 

Five sighed again. Six didn't seem as if he wanted to divulge into it. The one-eye moved around to look at the pictures from the right end. He tilted his head, eye moving across them. Five was a little concerned. “I thought you didn't like cats?” he asked. All the pictures were of black cats.

 

Six, who was still gazing into the images from upside down, shrugged.

 

Five bent over and pointed at one of the more scary looking drawings. “Is this one dead?”

 

The smaller glanced at the paper Five was intrigued with, and frowned deeply. “No, no, no.”

 

Five tilted his head in the other direction, looking into the drawing as if he would understand. It was a feline like creature with jutting lines from its back, and an eyeless cat skull for a head. Black goop dripped from its agape maw, coming up into flaring swirls about its clawed feet. It looked pretty dead to Five. He shivered and straightened his back.

 

“It lives.” Six almost whispered.

 

Five stared at him, unable to grasp what he was trying to communicate. He felt even more useless now. Not only could he not help Six get a peaceful nights rest, he could also not understand what exactly was going on with his head. It distanced him, and at the same time made him want to push on. “Have you shown anyone else your pictures?”

 

Six finally let himself look at Five. He shook his head no. “One saw them. Then yelled.” he turned and pointed at the entrance. “He went outside. Two saw also, and went with One. Others heard, but they not come over.” Six removed his blanket from his shoulders and carefully dropped it onto his nest, got on his knees, then settled Squeakers into the covers and tucked it in. He sighed, visibly drooping. “So, so, so tired. Last night had a nightmare.”

 

Five got down with him, heart sinking. “Oh, Six, you should have woken me up. I-is that why you drew a-all this?”

 

Six looked solemnly at his little pink doll and nodded slowly.

 

Five was thoughtful. “And wh-why you have trouble sleeping?”

 

He nodded again. “Sometimes. Other times, just can't.”

 

After a brief silence, trying to come up with a new solution given this information, Five decided on a plan of action. “Maybe we should try.. I don't know. Moving your bed closer to mine?”

 

Six looked up, imploring.

 

“We'd have to ask you k-know who.” Five added, grimacing. “But, maybe if you have another nightmare, you can wake me up and I can- I'unno.”

 

Six smiled, his despair far behind him. It made Five send a grace of a smile back, before breaking eye contact shyly.

 

“Thank yooooou.” Six cooed, crossing the tiny distance between them to hug Five tightly. “Will help, I think!”

 

The fluttery doll on the receiving end of the embrace coiled his arms around the other lightly, and kissed his forehead when he finally pulled away.

 


	8. So Tired

When Five shuffled to the slightly agape mouse hole, intending to find One and ask him to move Six's bed, he found Three and Four pulling him back.

 

The twins had grabbed on to his arms and edged him away from the door, which annoyed him greatly. Six, who had followed Five, glared at them and stayed quiet.

 

“Guys, quit- why do you look so worried?”

 

The twins looked at each other, both sporting a matching expression of concern and anxiety. Three lifted up a hand and folded all but the pointer finger.

 

“I d-don't think we have time for charades, why don't you play with each other?” Five suggested.

 

Three shook their head and jostled the hand for emphasis, making sure Five understood they were serious.

 

Five crossed his arms and sighed in defeat. “Okay. One?”

 

Three and Four nodded enthusiastically. They pointed to the door. Five glanced back then rolled his eye. “I know, One is outside. That's why we're going out there. We have to ask him something.”

 

They looked a little horrified and shook their heads, holding out their hands to tell him that was a bad idea. Before he could turn around, Seven came inside from the outer room and into the wall.

 

“Oh, Five!” she looked him up and down suspiciously, only giving the awkward Six a moment of acknowledgment. “What are you two doing?”

 

Three and Four skittered up to her and pointed at the small crack between the brick and hole again.

 

“Ohhh, I see.” Seven nodded. “Well, Three and Four act like they believe you want to impede the lively conversation going on out there.”

 

Five, still with arms crossed, blinked. “Huh?”

 

“Well, the thing _is_ , One and Two are kinda going at it.” Seven elaborated.

 

Six stepped closer to Five and whined. He clicked his sharp fingers together. “One.. yelling at Two?”

 

She shook her head. “Not exactly. They're both real loud if ya ask me.” she grumbled. “I watched for a while. Hey!” she pointed sternly at Six. “You're in pretty big trouble!”

 

He ducked behind Five, cringing.

 

“D-don't scare him!” Five scolded. “He knows already, okay?”

 

Three and Four had mischievous smirks, finding this amusing. Seven just rolled her eyes as if she didn't much care. “Yeah yeah, with the way One got onto him, _everybody_ knows. Don't see how you didn't wake up.”

 

Five shrugged. “C-can we go outside now?”

 

She was bewildered, and Three and Four acted worriedly again. “Didn't you hear a word I said? You do _not_ want to bother them. Let them argue! Somethin' is about to go down. Speaking of which, I have some interesting news.”

 

Five sighed. He looked over his shoulder at Six, who was still shielding himself. The striped doll was turned away, looking off down the hall like he wasn't listening any longer. “Okay. I.. guess we can ask later. Um. H-h-have you seen Six's new drawings?”

 

She shrugged and shook her head. “Nope. I went outside soon as I noticed Two and One were being grumpy with one another about it. Didn't have a chance. Come on.”

 

The five dolls walked back to the inner wall, collectively arriving at the pottery shard. Burnt wood remained from last night. Less wood was burned now, since Two and Five made the lights work. Six sat himself down on the floor rather than on any of the small asphalt rock, wood, or fabric seats that surrounded the shard. Three and Four sat on either side of him and Six groaned with irritation.

 

Five, who sat on a splintered bit of wood from some various object from the Emptiness, told them not to pester Six too much, as he was having a bad day. Seven let herself stand.

 

“Okay, now what's this interesting news?” Five asked now that they returned to the comfort of their inner area.

 

Seven became serious. “I stayed out past dark last night. When I was out, I heard something.”

 

“Heard something.” Six echoed. Four stared at him, but Three was attentive to Seven.

 

The girl gave a nod of confirmation. “This... primal sound. Like a screech, roaring in the darkness.”

 

“Maybe the wind was real strong last night.” Five tried, shrugging.

 

She shook her head slowly. “I don't think so. I've been outside in the dark more than once, Five. I know the sounds, and I for sure know how strong wind sounds.” she added sarcastically“Even so, I'm preeeetty sure I would know if the wind picked up.”

 

Five stared at her, Six stared through her. The one-eye shrugged again. “What are you trying to say?” he asked honestly.

 

Seven mimicked him and shrugged, thinking. “It wasn't like anything I'd heard before. It sound so.. angry.”

 

“Angry.” Six repeated. Four tried to pull at a thread on his head but he didn't notice, still appearing rather dazed.

 

“Yes.” Seven nodded. “Four, stop that.”

 

Four flinched back and smiled coyly, finally getting a look from a plain faced Six.

 

“Did you tell anyone about it?” Five asked.

 

Seven nodded. “Well, I told Two first, then One because Two said I should. One almost had a heart attack.” she rubbed the back of her neck, sighing. “Five, One and I don't get along, but I can't imagine the stress. First this guy-” she gestured to Six “- uses up all the sticky notes, then I tell him who knows what is off screaming in the dark outside the house.”

 

Five looked down thoughtfully. “Yeah. I guess that would drive someone a bit off their rocker, huh?” he admitted quietly.

 

Suddenly Six turned his head to Five, looking up at him from the floor. “I don't need any paper.”

 

Five rose an eyebrow. “What? But you were so excited about it! A-and since you used up all _our_ paper, now we kinda need more of that, too.”

 

Six frowned with deep pain. He shook his head unevenly. “No, no, I don't need any. You don't need any paper. No paper. Tell Two it is okay, need no more paper.”

 

Seven was confused that Six suddenly wanted to talk. She didn't understand why he was changing the subject to paper out of no where. Three and Four were blinking light at him, but he ignored them. “Six, if you hadn't went and drawn on all those little notes, then maybe we wouldn't need to go look for more paper, don't you agree?”

 

Six shook his head again, looking back and forth from Five and Seven. “It's okay, you don't need paper.”

 

Five listened sadly. He knew something was bothering Six greatly, but he couldn't figure out what. It couldn't just be his previous nightmare. “Okay, okay, I'll tell Two.” he complied. Seven gave him a funny look.

 

“But Five-”

 

Five shook his head and interrupted. “No, it'll be fine Seven, Two and I will talk.” he gave her a look that told her to just agree and move on.

 

She pursed her lips a bit, but did not complain any more.

 

Six relaxed, and realized Four and Three were closer than before, recording his every movement. He whined and got grumpy, standing up and hobbling over to sit with Five rather than stay on the floor. He crossed his arms and pouted like a determined child making a point.

 

“Look,” Seven took them away from their inner musings. “Two's come back inside. I guess One isn't going to follow.”

 

Two had slipped back into the wall, looking tired and worn out. He walked a bit then leaned on the wall, placing a hand on his forehead with exhaustion.

 

“We should see what's up.” Seven decided, looking back at them.

 

Six groaned and leaned on Five, closing his eyes. “So tired.”

 

“S-Six, why don't you just try and sleep now? You don't have to sleep during the night. It's n-not a rule or anything.” Five replied gently.

 

Six opened his eyes, removed himself, and sat up. “No, not good. Haven't moved my bed yet, so won't matter.”

 

Five furrowed his brows, worried. “Well, alright.”

 

Seven gave a solitary laugh. “You know, when Three and Four can't sleep they come sleep with me.”

 

Five and Six blinked at Seven. “Oh?” Five asked. “That really works?”

 

Three and Four nodded when prompted with their eyes.

 

Six, sitting so close to Five, took his arm and jiggled it a bit. “Maybe that can help? Better than- than- asking One!”

 

Seven snorted and turned her head away, obviously amused. “Guys come on, let's go talk to Two already.”

 

Five quietly agreed to Six, flustered by both he and Seven, and they moved from the area to greet Two. Six decided to hold Five's hand, pleased to the point of smiling. After all that had happened to Six that morning, Five's affection was the highlight of his day. It almost made him forget his traumas.

 


	9. Mutual Response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, how are you liking my old fanfic? 
> 
> It's interesting to read your old work and see how you used to write. I feel I both gained and lost some aspects of my writing style.

The frown removed itself almost immediately when Two saw the others approach him. He turned away from the wall, and despite the smile still looked terribly tired. “I'm guessing you would all like to know what's going on.”

 

Seven nodded and joked. “It can't be too good if you were making that face.”

 

He shrugged, looking at the ground. “One is very frightened. I'm surprised he hasn't come in yet.”

 

“Frightened of what?” asked Five, who still absently held Six's hand. Six wasn't paying much attention to anything.

 

Two met his friend's eyes. “The machine outside.”

 

Five furrowed his brows, but Seven wasn't surprised. Three and Four hid behind her, undecided on whether they wanted to bolt before they had nightmare fuel or not.

 

“I-I thought all the m-machines were gone?” stammered Five nervously, not quite believing it. “I mean,” he began to whisper “we all know S-Six was the one sneaking in.”

 

Two nodded sadly. “Has Seven told you?”

 

“Told me what?”

 

“What she heard last night.”

 

“Oh! Y-yeah, that.” Five found his free hand clenching and un-clenching, unable to fiddle with the other. He whined. “But, that can't possibly be a ma-machine!”

 

“Well it sure isn't a human.” replied Seven sardonically, crossing her arms.

 

Five found himself dumbstruck. He looked back down at Six, who was now nervously staring at the door nearby, his other hand on his key. “Why would a machine still be alive?”

 

Two then placed a hand on Five's shoulder, drawing his attention back. “Did you see what Six drew?”

 

Five nodded. “A bunch of cats. Why?”

 

The older shrugged. “I just found them.. interesting. Very different.”

 

It was then One finally returned the the safety of their hollow, having Eight, who had been out with him since the initial argument, close off the door with the brick. He gave the group a suspicious look. One was just as exhausted as Two was, which was lucky as he didn't feel like dealing with them and walked away to his bed, Eight unsure if he should follow. After Eight finally decided to leave One alone for a while, he went to his own bed. He wasn't a very social stitchpunk.

 

Once they were out of hearing range, Two sighed. “He doesn't want us going outside anymore. The door is closed. It will likely remain closed.” said the elder.

 

Seven already knew this, due to her time listening to them yell. “He can't do that.” she hissed with malice.

 

“Eight's the only one who can push the brick.” Five replied sadly. Six had since released his hand and moved to the other side of Five, as if hiding from One's sight, even though One was quite the distance away.

 

“Yeah, but we can move it all together, too!” Seven retorted. “Like we did before!”

 

Five shrugged. “But Eight was helping us then, too.”

 

She was increasingly unhappy. Three and Four decided this was the best time to leave, so that they wouldn't be in her way. They made a face of fear and backed up, before finally darting away to some secluded area. Seven didn't seem to notice.

 

–

 

The fire was flaring. The working Christmas lights shone scattered around the area, providing significant light where none had been prior to them. They contrasted the hot orange light of fire with their more dull white light. It was late for One to call them together, but call him together he did.

 

When Six tried hiding behind Five One scorned him and scared him into standing beside Five instead. Five thought it was strange Six wasn't blubbering, but he supposed Six could be as strong as any of them. Two in turn grumbled about One being too harsh on the boy, and One scowled. Things were still ugly between the two dolls.

 

One paced his typical pace. He looked them over. He mumbled to himself. Finally he began to talk to them in that demanding voice of his. “I... am sorry.” he grumped, looking at no one in particular now. “I am sorry I screamed at you, Six.” he quickly elaborated. Five thought he could feel the expressions of surprise on everyone's faces, even without looking at them. Two smiled.

 

“I know we have not had reports of noise outside the door for some time,” he changed the subject, as to not put too much emphasis that he had done something wrong. “but it has come to my attention there have been alarming sounds in the Emptiness.”

 

“Hell yeah they were alarming!” Seven agreed, shuttering.

 

One rolled his eyes. “Anyhow. This can only further confirm that we're in danger, and must take great caution. Unless we truly, desperately, need something, no one will be allowed to leave the wall. This is for our own safety.” he looked around for signs of mutiny. “I've been too lenient with your scavenging trips. I regret saying this.” he looked off.

 

Five wished he could feel happy over One's despair. One had hurt Six's feelings, almost crushing him, and had pushed Five and his friends around for a long while. But it almost hurt to see the fear and pain in his leader's eyes. Five was just too empathetic.

 

“Some happier news- Six, I have a way for you to make up for what you've done.” he turned where he stood to look at the little striped doll. Six was staring at the floor stiffly. “So far I've been nice, and not had you stand watch at night like the others all have. Perhaps it's time you start. Tonight will be your first watch, you'll have it with Seven.”

 

Seven grimaced, knowing this was because he knew she was going to hassle him about staying inside. He wanted to make a point. He was in charge, and she would do what he commanded.

 

Six peeked up at One, but just as quickly removed his eyes.

 

“Do you understand?” asked One with a slight edge, looking back and forth between Six and Seven.

 

Six gave an awkward nod, and Seven harrumphed.

 

“Good. I'm glad.” he glanced around. “That is all.”

 

As the dolls dispersed, Five overheard Seven fuss “I ought to fall asleep just to spite him. Hmph!”

 

Five covered his mouth and giggled as he wandered toward his bed, unsurprised. Six took him away from his laughter by gently pulling on his arm. He hadn't realized Six was following.

 

“I don't..” Six tried.

 

Five patted Six's shoulder, giving him an expression of compassion. “Don't worry, all you have to do is stand at the door quietly and listen.” he sighed. “But I s-suppose you won't be trying to get any sleep now.”

 

Six frowned. “We were gonna do what Seven and those two do, though!” he whined, tugging a bit more on Five's arm as they reached the nest. One of the Christmas bulbs shone nearby, illuminating everything faintly. “Tired.”

 

Five hugged his despairing friend, unable to take such a kicked puppy look. He pulled back and got onto his knees, now having to look up rather than down as was usual. Five glimpsed about, as if about to tell a secret. “I have an idea!” he confided quietly.

 

Six wrung his hands, pupils wide. He leaned forward a tad. “Idea? What?”

 

Five grinned at him, feeling light. “Why d-d-don't I just.. stay up with you? Keep you c-company?” he asked nervously. In truth, he didn't fully expect Six could stand around and do absolutely nothing for hours on end. He'd end up finding something to get into, and who knows if Seven would stop him or not. That didn't mean he was only suggesting this for that reason, however.

 

Six smiled widely and bounced on his feet. “Yes! Yes, fun!” he latched onto Five in a death grip and nuzzled his neck.

 

Glowing with affection Five returned the tight hug, pleased. When Six was happy, he was happy.

 

He had a hard time releasing the other, as Six seemed to not want to let go. When he finally did, Five went on. “I mean.. there's no rule that s-says I can't do that, r-r-right?”

 

Six shrugged. “Right!” his eyes unfocused for a moment. “Squeakers.. come too?”

 

Five tilted his head. “Squeakers?” he asked.

 

Six furrowed his brows. “About, about this high-” he gestured with his hand, representing height “- pink.”

 

The other brightened with realization. “Squeakers! Yes, the doll! Can't believe y-you still have that ol' thing.” he glanced at his hands resting in his lap. “I mean, it hardly stays together.” Five was honestly embarrassed about it. He had made that doll in a short amount of time, and was surprised it was holding up.

 

Six finally dropped to his legs with a soft 'thump.' “Nuh-uh!” he retorted, shaking his head vigorously.

 

The one-eye hummed, musing to himself. “I could make a better one.”

 

Again Six shook his head, almost instantly. “Can't replace Squeakers! Five did.. you did a good job!”

 

His mechanics whirred, and he fidgeted. “Y'think so?”

 

Six grinned and nodded, swelling.

 

Seven soon came by, giving Five a light, playful smack to the back of his head. It was soon time to grab a weapon and chill by the doors. She didn't care about Five's plans, mostly dismissing them when he told her. She was upset with One. She didn't mind anything that could potentially bother him, and wouldn't snitch. Five and Six could have their little all-night slumber party if that was their prerogative.

 

Everyone else had gone off to their beds and settled in, two of the bulbs were turned off to both preserve battery and dim the wall down a bit. One didn't make sure Six or Seven were ready for watch. He typically didn't, this was not unusual.

 

The dolls got their pick of defensive material. Seven took the same metal blade she had with her when they found Six. Six picked up a measly needle, it was all he was comfortable with. Five in the meanwhile quietly retrieved Squeakers for Six.

 

Six stayed at the boarded up mouse hole, as Seven refused to let them by the main entrance. They would talk too much, she knew, and they would end up waking someone and evoking their wrath. Five suggested she join them- no one would be the wiser. She cut her eyes and shook her head, smirking. She wouldn't dare be a third wheel, if Five got her drift. He had coughed awkwardly and claimed he did not.

 

It had been less than fifteen minutes of standing around the door, and yet Six would not stop yawning. Had he been human he would perhaps have streams of tears watering down his cheeks from the sheer amount of yawns.

 

“Sorry you have to do this.” Five said, keeping his voice down enough to not be overheard by sleeping dolls in the least. He held his hands behind his back, standing on one side of the door with Six at the other.

 

Six had his head leaned on the wall. “One won't yell no more.”

 

Five sighed. “I suppose not.”

 

Six stood with needle loosely in one hand, pink doll in the other. Another five minutes went by. There was silence beyond the door, if but for the wind coming in the window and small holes in the high sections of the wall. Six yawned again. He groaned, and slumped down. Twenty minutes was too long to stand in a single spot. Sitting was better.

 

Five followed his lead. There was significant space between the two. Five would have to lean hard while reaching out his hand to touch the striped stitchpunk. He watched Six place Squeakers between his sprawled legs and stare at it, needle beside his thigh. He made the little thing move a bit. “Squeak squeak squeak.”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Six looked at him like it was obvious. “Talking to Squeakers.”

 

Five rose a brown, amused. “And what does Squeakers say?”

 

The smaller gave his attention back to the doll. “Squeak, squeak squeak. Squeak!” he looked back at Five and frowned. “He says he's bored and wants to take a nap.”

 

Five let his head rest on the wall. “Me too Squeakers, me too.”

 

“Squeakers also says, come here, Five is far away.”

 

Five mumbled. “I'm not _that_ far.” he complied anyway, standing to go sit beside Six and his imaginary friend.

 

Six was overjoyed and wiggled with excitement. He made the doll wiggle too. “She is h-happy, now.”

 

“She?”

 

“Squeakers is happy, now!”

 

Five blinked. “Well, I'm glad.” he leaned back stiffly on the wall, and let the silence take over for a little while. Six played with his doll. “Is Squeakers a boy or a girl?”

 

Six looked up at Five, confused. He searched for words, as if unjumbling them in his head. He looked back at the pink doll and studied it, before looking back at Five with the same confused face as before. “What's that?”

 

Now Five was confused. “What's what?”

 

Six stammered. “Wh-what is boy or girl?”

 

The one-eye found himself thinking hard. He actually wasn't sure. It was a human way of separating plants and animals, it helped them categorize, and influenced language. Two was the one who told him about it. He said it was why Seven was called a “she,” and why he and Five were a “he,” though it carried little meaning since they were not plants or animals. For them it was only grammatical, but Two suggested it was also mental. That was why Seven was called a she, even if Seven was the same as the other stitchpunks. She liked it that way, was all.

 

He shook his head. “Never mind. It's just a human thing. Two talks about humans a lot, he's rubbing off on me.” he chuckled.

 

“Oh. Haha. Humans.” Six made Squeakers dance. “Humans, and mice, and doggies, and flying things, and cats. Cats.” he shuttered, and stopped playing. “Cats. Bad.” Six tapped his left optic. “Ow.”

 

“Did you p-prick yourself?” asked Five, who hadn't been paying a lot of attention when Six began rambling. He assumed Six hurt himself with the needle, that perhaps he shifted a leg and it poked his thigh.

 

Six scooted closer to Five and whined. “Noooo.” he murmured sadly. “I'm scared.”

 

Pressed to his shoulder warmly, Five gave Six's leg a pat. “Why? 'Cause th-there might be a b-beast outside?” he asked, suddenly realizing that was probably a stupid thing to say. That wouldn't make Six feel better.

 

Six nodded. “One that hunts rodents!”

 

He tried to think of something to say to reassure Six. Instead he ended up putting his arm around him, making the smaller start. After Six figured out it was only Five and most certainly _not_ a monster, he was deeply relieved. He leaned back against him, and Five laid his cheek upon his head, messing up his hair. It might as well have been cuddling.

 

Five rubbed Six's arm to comfort him, though Six seemed rather content already. He removed his cheek from his head and sighed. “We'll be okay.” he assured.

 

Six, pressed into him and acting shy, didn't say anything. He removed Squeakers from between his legs so he could raise them to his chest, Squeakers to the side.

 

“Six? You o-okay?” asked Five.

 

He hummed an acknowledgment, turning on the spot enough to look at Five but not separate them. Head on his knees he peeked up, pupils dilated. “Thanks.” he mumbled through his fabric.

 

Five beamed bashfully, trying to come to terms with how quickly the atmosphere thickened. He couldn't look at Six too long, or he imagined he'd overheat from the inside out. He tended to do that to Five frequently. He meant to talk to Two about it, but only so he could vent his feelings to someone. Someone that wasn't Six; someone that wouldn't make him start stuttering uncontrollably if he dared to try.

 

The miniscule conversation made Five forget that there was quite possibly a murderous monster lurking outside. He finally removed his arm, deciding to clasps his hands in his lap, though Six had a mind of his own and took hold instead. Well, Six was certainly a hand holder. He realized the smaller was still looking up at him with his big eyes, so he squirmed a bit.

 

“Six?” he murmured.

 

“Mm?”

 

Five squirmed some more, embarrassed. “Y-you're st-st-staring.”

 

“Mm.” he looked down, fixing his eyes towards the floor instead.

 

The one-eye felt a smidge of heat leave his face when he found himself no longer being stared down. He was relieved, the pressure off of him. A minute or so of quiet passed. By now the watch must have been going on a little less than an hour, Five imagined. He glanced down at his friend, whose eyes remained on the floor. They were still joined at the hands, though Five had no intention of moving away. Six yawned, his first yawn in some time.

 

Five smirked and kissed the side of his head sweetly, amused and distressed all at once. On one hand it was terribly cute, on the other it reminded him that Six found it almost impossible to rest. The chaste kiss pleased Six, as he grinned and tried to hide it against his legs. He peeked up again, wiggling like a small child. “Fiiiive.” he drawled, sound muffled.

 

Five couldn't help but giggle. “Siiiix.” he mimicked, scratching the other's head.

 

Six giggled too, then removed his head from his legs, leaned forward, and gently kissed him on the mouth before totally hiding his head with shyness.

 

Taken by surprise, Five gaped his mouth. He didn't think that would ever happen. Kissing was another human action he understood. Though the stitchpunks lacked the same body functions- saliva or a tongue- kissing was a wonderful way to express emotion and make one another happy. That's why he was fond of giving Six little kisses on his head. He had never objected, but only now had Six gave a mutual response.

 

He was reduced to mush, unable to talk. Five realized he was clenching down on Six's hand harder than he meant to, and wondered if Six noticed and was just being polite by not saying anything. He eased up, having been tense. This was going to be a long watch. Still, after what had just happened, Five did not regret staying up with Six. Not at all.

 

When Six didn't say or do anything after a minute, Five nudged him a bit. “Six?” he asked quietly, not sure what to say. The other didn't reply or move. “Six?” he asked again.

 

Five stared forward at the other side of the wall thoughtfully. Six must have been embarrassed, and was too shy to talk out of fear. The one-eye continued to stare absently at the wall with a sigh. He idly rubbed a thumb over Six's hand in some human habit encoded into his soul. “Everything's going to be fine.” he concluded once more aloud, looking back down on his still unresponsive friend.

 

One of Six's legs slipped a bit, taking his head forward along with it. Five blinked, then rolled his eye. He wasn't being silent out of shyness, Six had fallen asleep. The stripped doll's body tilted further against Five's now that he was knocked out. Five couldn't understand how one could fall asleep sitting in that position, and imaged only someone totally exhausted could deal with it.

 

Five carefully repositioned Six and himself so that Six was curled up on the floor with his head on Five's leg for a cushion. The odd little doll was assigned the night's watch, but it looked like Five would be taking it instead. He supposed he didn't mind, not with Six laying against him. It made Five feel incredible bliss, and knowing Six would be able to rest certainly made him happy too.

 

He stared at the opposite wall once more, boredly. The cold white light from one of the Christmas bulbs cast shadows a short distance off near the collection pile, fighting the flickering warmth from the fire's light even further off. Five's mind wandered endlessly for long, long minutes, until a full hour went by. He was lucky he had no blood or true nerves, or he would have gone numb from sitting with Six's head in his lap.

 

Five yawned. Soon he fell victim to his boredom and the silence of the hollow, nodding off to sleep.

 


	10. Cat at the Door

Five awoke violently. Someone was desperately shaking his shoulder to wake him, whimpering and saying something he didn't totally comprehend. When his mind finally stopped swirling, Five found that Six was in front of him. “Up! Up! Get away!” he heard him whisper.

 

“What's wrong?” Five asked drowsily, being dragged onto his feet.

 

“Away from the door!” answered Six, who was holding onto Five's arm and pulling him back towards the other side of the wall.

 

“Why? A-are we under attack?” asked an increasingly upset Five.

 

Six pressed his back against the wall and stared intensely at the boarded up door. He was deeply troubled. Other than his voice, there was no sound. “Th-there is.. a.. cat.”

 

Five furrowed his brows and watched the door, listening. The only light was from the bulbs, as the fire had gone out. Five wondered how long he'd been asleep for. He looked back at Six. “Six.. cats are dead. Remember?” he tried.

 

Six shook his head, frightened and refusing to rip his eyes off the door.

 

“Like before, when we were talking about mice. And Two said they were gone with the humans. Cats are too.”

 

Again he shook his head. “No, no.”

 

Five watched him and sighed. He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Did you.. have another nightmare?”

 

He didn't answer. Instead he pointed at the boards and implored Five with his eyes. “Listen!”

 

Five waited and listened, but he didn't hear anything. “Six..”

 

“It's scratching at the door!”

 

He gave Six the benefit of a doubt and listened for a little while longer. When he still heard nothing he crossed his arms, uncomfortable with the situation. He did not want to make Six feel any worse than he obviously was. Six was currently scrapping his sharp fingers against his scalp, so Five took his wrists gently to stop him, scared he would rip himself up.

 

“I-I don't think there's a cat.”

 

Six whined, complying with Five's grip to take his hands away. He looked down at the floor. There _was_ a cat outside. Maybe not at the moment, but there was a cat there. The stripped doll tried to come up with a way to explain this. “S-soon.” he tried.

 

Five tilted his head, walking to the other side to pick up Squeakers and the needle he and Five had left in the haste to move away. “Soon?”

 

Six gave a single nod. “Yes, soon, I heard it!”

 

The one-eye was concerned, unable to understand. He opened his mouth to speak and quickly closed it. He came back over and watched his friend fretting, still looking down at the floor. “Okay. What... would you like to do?” he twitched and elaborated. “About the cat.”

 

Six shrugged, leaning forward to press his forehead to Five's chest, seeking comfort.

 

Five hugged Six, who was unresponsive. “We should tell O-One.”

 

That made Six squirm and look up at Five, chin resting on his chest instead. “What.. what One do?”

 

He shrugged. “Something. I g-g-guess.” he rubbed Six's back. “Couldn't hurt. Right?”

 

Six mimicked him and shrugged.

 

Five figured Six had only had a nightmare. After all, the last time Six had had one, he had drawn bumpy images of black cats all night, then gotten yelled at in the morning. The fear of felines was obviously a running theme. If suggesting they tell One would calm him down, then Five would gladly promise it. If Five told Two first though, could it really hurt?

 

–

 

“He said he heard a cat.”

 

Two tapped his chin, stopping his re-organization of their supplies. He hummed, thinking. “Six does seem to have a strange fear of cats. Did you tell him they were extinct?”

 

Five nodded. He glanced over at Six a small distance off, coiled up in Five's blankets and totally knocked out. It appeared Six was finally getting the rest he needed.

 

Two watched his friend with compassion. “Perhaps.. the only thing we can do for him is to support him and hope he will someday conquer this fear. His nightmares may eventually go away.”

 

 _Tap tap,_ he fidgeted. “What.. what if they don't?” Five asked gently, staring down. “What if they get worse? Or never go away?”

 

His mentor sighed. “You care a lot about Six, don't you?”

 

That startled Five a bit. He perked up and shrugged shyly. “Yeah.”

 

Two went back to slowly rearranging things. He continued to talk as he went about his chore. “We could always consider an alternative answer to his nightmares.”

 

“L-like what?”

 

“It could be Six has experienced some past trauma with a feline that has left him with a mental imprint.”

 

Five rose an eyebrow. “Two, that's not possible- you just said it yourself, cat's are extinct!”

 

A few screws were separated from a small pile of nails. “Yes, but imagine for a moment.” he straightened up. “A cat-like machine.” Five didn't hear it, but Two quietly added humorously. “Or a spooky looking stuffed animal, even.”

 

Five blinked at him, dumbfound by this accusation. “Why would there be a cat-like machine?” he asked quickly, confused as to where this was going.

 

Two shrugged and grinned. “Who knows? Maybe even Six was created when cats still existed?”

 

Five slumped, chalking up Two's suggestions to his imaginative mind.

 

“However, we _do_ know that there is a machine that is still working. Seven has reported hearing it, and I believe her.”

 

He still didn't want to think that there was something in the Emptiness. Five decided to stay quiet.

 

Two studied him for a moment. He sighed. “We have very little to go on. For now, be there to comfort Six and let's have One take care of procedures concerning this machine. Until we have something lurking about right outside our door, there's... not much we can do. About the machine or Six's fear.”

 

Five thought Two looked sad. After his previous argument with One, he must have realized there was not much more the group could do other than wait. They would need supplies yet could not retrieve them, and Seven could no longer let off steam by wandering the house. Two must have been feeling defeated. Maybe even a little useless. He would never say it out loud, though. Five had sympathy.

 

“So I guess I'll just see if S-Six gets better.” Five whimpered.

 

Two nodded once. “For now.”

 

After a few silent moments of idly watching his friend, Five turned around to walk back to Six. Two didn't need Five's help with his task, so Five thought it more useful to return to the sleeping doll in his bed.

 

Three and Four were lifting up Six's arm. Five found his way to the blankets and- _Three and Four._ He scowled at them and they dropped the arm, flinching back. The two smiled innocently up at him.

 

“Shoo!” he demanded.

 

The twins got up and ran away. They must have taken their chance to bother Six while he was asleep and Five's back had been turned. He'd never understand why they were so interested in the little striped doll. Sure, Six didn't talk like the other stitchpunks, and could draw directly with his fingers, and sometimes stopped listening mid conversation, but he wasn't so different. Their need to categorize and record everything was sometimes such a nuance.

 

Five got down beside the blankets and watched Six resting peacefully. He hadn't stirred at all from the Twins jostling him. He felt a compulsion to smooth his fingers over the other's arm and hold his hand, but he didn't let himself do it. Five noticed Squeakers was beside Six's head, so he moved it closer to Six's chest instead.

 

The sounds of the wall in the day were thin and few. He could hear Two slowly clicking and clanking items as he moved them, and could hear the faint voice of Seven, who was probably talking to the Twins who had most certainly returned to her side. There was a scrapping upon wood, and when Five looked towards the noise he could see Eight some far distance down the hollow scrapping the wall with something sharp. One walked over to him, obviously exasperated, so Eight stopped and pouted.

 

Five sighed. There was nothing to do. They had no more batteries to rig up extra lights. Two had no new projects in mind for him to help with. Seven had no way to be totally alone, like she often preferred. Surely the stitchpunks couldn't last more than a week quarantined in their little space. One would be forced to have them scavenge eventually.

 

Six rolled onto his side and whined. Five snapped his eye down, looking for any sign of contortion. Instead he found Six waking up, curling in onto himself and balling his hands up near his face. He shuttered, as if tensing his insides, then rolled his head to look up. He found Five close by, and smiled at him.

 

“Five!” he greeted. “Hello!”

 

He smiled back at Six. “Hello.” he greeted back.

 

Six rolled onto his back then onto his stomach, stretching out his limbs and tangling further in the covers. He sat up, still smiling. “Time?”

 

Five hummed in question.

 

“Um. What.. time?”

 

Five tilted his head, looking up at the deep ceiling of the inner wall. He brought his eye back. “Well. There's light outside.” he pointed a finger up. “It's coming in the holes up there.”

 

Six crossed his legs, and picked up Squeakers. He petted it. “Not tired anymore!”

 

Five giggled at the other's obvious joy. “That's 'cause you slept a little last night, and a few hours today.”

 

Nod. “Yes!” he suddenly got serious. “You tell One? About the cat?”

 

Five froze. What was he supposed to say? He recalled the terror and guilt of lying to One some while ago. Could he really lie to Six? Was lying to the one who warmed your insides and put a glow on your face such a good idea, even if it spared evadable drama?

 

The one-eye looked away. “Yeah. I t-t-told him.”

 

Six leaned forward. “And?”

 

He looked back. “Uh. Well.” Five squirmed, uncomfortable. “There's n-nothing else we can do r-right now.”

 

Six wilted and frowned, fear in his eyes. He stared at Squeakers and continued petting it. “I guess. I knew, already.”

 

Five tilted his head. He worried when Six began to talk like that. “Knew what?”

 

“Can't do nothin'. It'll happen.”

 

They were quiet, both letting the conversation sink in. Six scooted forward, then reached out and patted Five's eye patch. “Like- couldn't stop that, and can't stop this.” he removed his hand, and watched Five for signs he understood.

 

Five didn't understand. Not at all. He didn't know how to respond to that. Instead he ended up repeating something he'd said the night before. “We'll be okay.”

 

Six gave a little smile, barely looking up at Five under the curve of his optics. “I know.” he perked up. “Yes, we'll be okay!” he said optimistically. Suddenly he thrust his pink doll at Five. “Can you put th' gold button on him?”

 

“What gold button?” Five asked, a little exhausted from the previous atmosphere and the fact he'd lied to Six.

 

Six shrugged a shoulder. “You know.”

 

Five stared at him, waiting for more elaboration. It came to him. “Ohhh, _that_ button.”

 

So Five agreed, went to grab a needle and a string of thread, then the two of them went to Six's bed to dig out the gold button from somewhere in his blankets.

 


	11. oh god this was such a bad idea

It had been four and a half days since the group had been closed up in the wall. Seven had taken to pacing around and getting in everyone elses business. She and Eight tried to spar occasionally, but One would always yell at them that they'd end up knocking something over or hurting someone. Three and Four noticed how wound up she was, and stayed out of her way. Five took from their example.

 

Eight, who was used to following One around, almost acted as if he was a little irked by the smaller doll. Like Seven he was active and needed something to occupy himself. He may not ever have desired to run off into the house to be alone, but even he had his limits. Eight wouldn't openly say or do anything bad towards One, but everyone could see he was just a bit exhausted.

 

Five's mentor and close friend, Two, was typically with someone or taking apart and putting back together things. He didn't show how bored he was, other than with his habitual re-arranging of their stuff. He had nothing else better to do. Two looked like he was thinking a lot. Sometimes he would stare at the bricked up door.

 

The Twins were mostly pissing everybody off. On the third day One snapped at them and Eight threatened them, so since then they had been keeping to themselves. It was a little creepy, as keeping to themselves simply meant they would watch you from a safe distance rather than get in your space. If you caught them staring, they wouldn't look away.

 

Everyone kept away from One, other than Seven, who tended to bump into him roughly if they were close enough. One refused to bicker with her, because she was a lot more violent than Two was. Arguing with her would be much different. Even though the stitchpunks gave One a lot of space, he liked to walk around and judge them at close range often. His harrumphing was getting old and annoying.

 

Five liked to think he and Six were the most tame of the cooped up dolls, after Two. Six, who was very perceptive of others, did not speak to any one stitchpunk if he thought they were feeling too holed up. It wasn't much different for Six. He generally didn't go outside. The days were normal, and he would follow Five or Two around as such. Other times he would be with Squeakers, whispering to himself. If you asked him he would say he and the doll were talking.

 

Five took up the hobby of wall-watching. That is to say staring at the muddy colored wood that separated the hollow from the outside and day dreaming. If he was really bored he would take things apart with Two. At least that helped him memorize how certain things went together. He kept watch over Six, and found himself looking off to find the odd doll with his eye frequently. They talked a lot.

 

Sometimes in their boredom, and if they were not close enough to pester anybody, Five would have Six lightly tap on the floor and Five would hum to it. It was the closest thing to music they had, and amused Six. Neither of them knew any actual songs.

 

Other than the tension between One and Seven the past four and a half days were peaceful. Six did not have anymore nightmares. Five liked to imagine that it was because he and Six shared a bed now. Even so, sometimes Six would look frightened, stare hard at the door or wall, shudder violently, then suddenly shake his head and pretend he hadn't. Five didn't bring up his previous nightmare, so neither did Six.

 

On the sixth day of containment One jostled Five awake in the early morning. The erratic movement made Five sit up as if from a scare. Still shaken, Five found himself wide awake and in bed. He looked up into the bothered face of One, which really did nothing to help him. His first thought was that One had some how found out that Five had lied to him a few weeks back, and was here to tell him off. Five was honestly too paranoid. “W-what?”

 

“I've been meaning to ask you,” One began pleasantly, pointing at still sleeping Six who was tangled up in the covers beside Five. “why isn't he sleeping in his own bed?”

 

The tone of voice coming from One made Five extremely nervous and jittery. He looked down at Six, who was somehow ignorant of them speaking. He had been sleeping well since they started sharing the blankets. Five was glad, as Six actually would become tired if he did not rest, unlike the other stitchpunks who could go a good few days awake. Eye back to One, Five shrugged.

 

“W-w-well. He. Umm. Six.. was h-having a hard time. Going to s-sleep, I mean.”

 

One leaned forward against his staff and squinted down at Five. He was quiet for a minute, scrutinizing him. “Oh?”

 

Five nodded, unable to keep eye contact any longer. He locked his eye on the pink fabric that still covered his bent legs.

 

“Why, pray tell, did that mean he was to come and sleep in your bed?”

 

Five shrugged, pouting. His mind was going blank.

 

One nudged Six with the bottom of his staff. He nudge him some more. “Six, wake up.” When Six didn't stir, One whopped him a little more roughly against his hip.

 

The force evidently got to the sleeping stitchpunk, as he cried out with sudden fear and leaped away from the covers, running into the wall in his haze. “Ow!” he whined, finding himself sitting on the floor with a soft twang of pain where One had got him. “Mean!”

 

Five glared up at One. Even though One hadn't hit him very hard, Five was upset in the way he'd gone about waking him. He felt anger swirl in his threads. “Why'd you do that?” he asked, obviously peeved.

 

“To tell him to go back to his own bed.” One looked at Six. “Six. Go back to your own bed.” Back to Five. “See? Not so mean.”

 

Six looked shocked. He barely registered what was being said. After being shoved into the waking world, his side aching, here One was saying strange words. All he understood was he was not welcome where he was at the moment. He stayed quiet and frowned, twiddling his sharp fingers. He wanted to find his doll in the mess of covers, but did not want to move.

 

Five, still rather annoyed, moved positions so he was standing, albeit backing up first. If he took another step he'd be against the wall. “What for?”

 

One rolled his eyes, as if listening to a rebellious teenager. “He has his own bed, he should sleep in it.”

 

“W-well, the twins and Seven do it too!”

 

The leader's brow rose. “Do they now?” he replied, looking down the hall. “Guess I know who to talk to next.”

 

Five guffawed and crossed his arms. One's argument was stupid. It was illogical. Just because Six had his own bed didn't mean he couldn't come sleep with Five. It may have been One trying to release his tension through a small show of power, but that didn't matter to Five. He crossed his arms.

 

“Either way,” One quickly continued. “if Six doesn't like sleeping in his own bedding, then he can simply... sleep on the floor.” One smiled, then waltzed away before Five could protest any further.

 

Five sighed, letting go of most of his irritation. His arms fell loose beside him, and he looked down to a still shocked Six. “Are you okay?” he cooed, getting on his knees beside Six.

 

Six glanced at Five, and shrugged a shoulder. “Mean.”

 

“I know. He _is_ mean.” Five agreed. “Did he hurt you?”

 

Six shook his head no. “Not hurting anymore.”

 

Five watched Six for a few seconds. The stripped doll was very stiff, as if scared to move. “Six. He can't force you to sleep on the floor.”

 

“Can too.”

 

“Not if you don't let him!”

 

Six scowled gently. Five rarely saw him make an angry face, so it surprised him. “Uh-huh! Eight will.”

 

Five didn't think of that. He pursed his lips and settled his back against the wall, feet barely touching his blankets that were laid out just before them. “Then I guess I'll come to your bed, instead!”

 

The other perked up, grinning. “Really?”

 

Nod. “He didn't say I couldn't, did he?” Five knew he was just trying to bide time. He didn't want Six being alone at night any longer. Not if it meant he'd wake up with the lingering fear of a cat beyond the door. Even if Five had no proof that sharing a bed was what helped Six, he felt it was better for him anyhow. If Six did happen to wake up scared, Five could perhaps comfort him a little.

 

–

 

It was day nine. It had been a little over a week. Two had told Five he wanted to punch a few more little holes up at the top wall so more light would penetrate during the day. He had no way of doing this. While Two had a small screw driver that he figured might suffice as a hole punching tool, he could not actually reach the high wall. They came up with the idea of throwing a rope with something that could latch onto the holes.

 

The problem was that they had only thin string. They would need thread that was thicker and could support the weight of either of them. And as a precaution they would also need a cushion below in case someone fell. Cotton from the pillows upon the outside bed would work- but the bed was on the other side of the wall, beyond the brick.

 

Two and One once more began to argue, and it didn't help that Seven would sometimes join in. The Twins often hid, and Eight would pout. He was tired of the bickering as much as anyone else.

 

Amidst the arguing, Seven would often scold One for ever trying to separate her from the Twins, and for doing the same to Five and Six. Eight had originally forced Five to sleep on the floor, since Five moved to Six's bed the day One had first got onto him. But two days later, One being exhausted from the discontent of his group members, finally stopped his power trip and let them do as they pleased.

 

Two made the point that not only did they need this thicker thread and cotton, they still needed more batteries and paper. The wood supplies were running low, he said, and that was because they hadn't collected much before the doors were closed off, relying more on the new light bulbs.

 

On day nine One finally threw his hands up and said “Fine! Go scavenge, get killed by a machine, see if I care!”

 

So, happy, Two, Seven, and Five got ready to go outside. As the brick was begrudgingly pushed away, Six came up and tugged on Five's arm. “I wanna go! I wanna go!”

 

At first the party said it was a bad idea. Six could not defend himself. Even Two, with his weak joints and slow pace, could hold and use a weapon. Six was barely brave enough to hold a needle. But Five convinced Seven and Two, as they sympathized with the little doll, being that Six had not been outside the house at all.

 

After the four took up their sizable bags, they each grabbed a weapon. Seven had a sharp metal razor on a thin rod, Two had a short knife made of glass, Five held the experimental weapon that would eventually become a masterful crossbow, and Six, as expected, refused to hold anything more than a long, thin needle. They were prepared, in any event, to protect themselves and their collected supplies. They set out without a goodbye.

 


	12. Nobody Likes Chores

It was still very early. The sky was only partially obscured by dust and cloud cover. Without the pure sunshine, things were almost gloomy. Two said it was probably winter, then went off on a long explanation on how the seasons worked when Seven asked him the significance of “winter.”

 

A minute into his excited lecture she tuned him out. “Oh look! Some wood!” she said loudly, making it obvious she wanted to get away. With that she dashed off to collect it, keeping in sight.

 

“Oh, right. I must have gotten so into the seasons I forgot what we were actually outside for.” Two chuckled.

 

Five walked over to Seven to pick up some of the chipped and partially charred wood parts with her. It looked like it had been splintered off of something, but was totally unidentifiable now.

 

Two stayed put and kept look out with Six. Two was nervous, realizing he probably shouldn't have gotten excited. His loud voice could have been a danger to them. He made a mental note to try and abstain future lectures.

 

Six looked around. They gave him a bag to carry stuff with, so he could be useful. So far the thing was empty upon his back. He was trying to see if he could spot any of the items they needed. “Why do I come out here?” he mumbled.

 

“Hm?” hummed Two in question.

 

Six blinked and shrugged as if he had not said anything.

 

Seven and Five returned to them. The white stitchpunk marched on happily ahead. “Come on! We can get thick thread at that 'ol building with all the ceramic animals and pens and stuff!” she announced.

 

“That's so far away.” whined Five, walking beside Two with Six slightly dragging behind.

 

“But it certainly will have what we need.” commented Two.

 

“Bluhhh. I guess it's still better to be out here than in there, huh?”

 

Six whined and skipped up to grab Five's hand. He uneasily watched off in the distance, which unnerved Five. Five shared a look with Two, and they continued on behind Seven.

 

The building they were headed to was way further than a hop and a skip; it might as well have been a human mile. It felt that way to the little dolls, anyway. The dilapidated store was the center of an expansive slab of parking lot, with a few lone cars still parked there. It was once a center where humans would find many various things: specialized paper, framework, foam cutouts, jars, isles of jewelry, etcetera.

 

The scavenging group had only explored a small portion of the store on previous trips. It was very dark on the inside when the lighting wasn't coming in through the holes blasted into the roof. Five was even scared the ceiling would come down on them, as it looked like the ruble could still collapse below the holes. However, it was the best place for collecting things they could find nowhere else.

 

“Missed this place.” cooed Seven dreamily as they walked through a spiky break in the door's glass.

 

“I didn't.” shuttered Five, making sure Six didn't accidentally touch any of the glass.

 

Seven stopped, standing ramrod and looking about. She tapped her chin, concentrating. “Where was all that thread?” she pondered.

 

“Dark soon.” Six whimpered.

 

“No, we still have a good while Six. Don't worry.” soothed Two.

 

“That way!” pointed Seven, swiftly tromping off.

 

They had to hurry to catch up to her, though Five had to slow down to tell Six to move faster. Seven took them past packages of strewn out candy that had fallen from shelves, around tipped over statues of broken deer heads, and into one of the isles.

 

“This is it. I think.” she called to them as she finally slowed. It was evident Seven was very happy she could move freely again.

 

The other dolls, especially creaky Two, shuffled slowly toward their suddenly stationary friend.

 

“Goodness,” huffed Two, massaging a knee. “you're very eager to get the job done!”

 

Seven shrugged, looking up at the products displayed on the shelves. This was one of the few isles where the items hadn't gone over the sides, nor had its shelf fallen down.

 

“How?” Six asked quietly, pointing up at the many spools of thread. They were of all colors and sizes. Some even glittered, as if they were made with microscopic, shining dust.

 

“It's not _too_ high up.” Five encouraged, though doubted himself.

 

Last time they had just snatched a spool off the bottom of the shelf, which was reachable. The better thread was on the second level. Perhaps if they dared to look, the third level could hold even greater riches than the second. They probably _wouldn't_ dare, though.

 

“Look, I'll just stack up some of the stuff down here. Don't worry 'bout it!” Seven replied confidently, smirking at Six.

 

“Yes, I was about to suggest that.” added Two.

 

Five and Seven arranged spools and small packages of various sewing supplies into a neat, climbable pile. When they were satisfied with its load bearing capacity, Seven had Five and Two help hoist her closer to the top. She carefully stepped up, and reached for the edge of the second ledge. It wasn't difficult for her to grab on and pop up.

 

When she had arrived at her destination, she cheekily stood looking over the side. This was where she belonged; partially obscured and standing on top of the world, not caged up like some fragile bird. “Hiiii guys!” she waved.

 

Five gave a dismissive wave back. “Oh, quit it. Just find us some strong thread.”

 

She eventually decided on a very thick, deep blue thread. The spool was as big as her, which meant they would have to roll it back. It was pushed over the edge, and she came down.

 

“Can tick that off the list!” she smiled.

 

“Good, now we just need to look for some batteries. We can get the cotton back home.” Two stopped talking to worriedly look around, turning in a circle on the spot. “Erm, where did Six go?”

 

“Six?” Five squeaked, having not realized the other wandered off. He had been too occupied with Seven. He panicked a little, violently turning this way and that. The isle was empty other than they three.

 

“Woah, calm down, he couldn't have gone far.” Seven tried to comfort, jogging to look outside the isle.

 

Five clenched and un-clenched his fists near his chests, and followed after her. “This was a bad idea!”

 

“I'll check in the other direction.” Two called, walking the opposite way down the isle.

 

The hall that let into the different isles was void of life. Seven and Five split up, Seven going left and Five going right. They kept in each others sight, running and looking down the long isles in hope of finding their missing member.

 

Eventually Seven called out to him and disappeared into one of the lanes. The jerky one-eye ran to join her, and found her harshly scolding a pouting Six. When he came up, Five thought he could hear Six whispering “sorry” every so often.

 

“The heck were you thinking?” said Five with disdain, crossing his arms. “We were so worried!” said Five with much, much less disdain.

 

Six kept his head lowered like a child, and shuffled forward and rubbed his head into Five's chest. “Sorry.” he said again.

 

If he thought a show of affection was going to sway Five, he had another thing coming. “Oh, w-well-” Five stammered.

 

“Don't do it again.” Seven finished for him, as Six stopped his sucking up. “Or a big bad beast will get'cha!”

 

Six squealed and leaned into Five's arm. “No!” he cried.

 

Five glared at Seven, then stopped once he noticed Two had found them.

 

“Ah, Six, there you are!” Two huffed. He looked down at the floor. “You tore up some paper.”

 

“Yes.” Six agreed, refusing to look at anyone now.

 

When prompted with the reason for his wandering, Six claimed he heard a strange noise and followed it. When the sound ceased, he had walked into one of the isles and happily found himself among giant sheets of paper laying in bins on the wall. So instead of finding his friends again, he stayed to make use of the sheets of paper by ripping off pieces that could go into his pack. When then asked what the noise was, he frowned, stared down, and shrugged.

 

They decided they had no more use being there, and left with the spool.

 


	13. Returning Home

They took turns pushing the spool in twos. It was a slow process. Two reckoned they'd be home at least before the sun totally dipped under the horizon, and Seven said that was “ _juuust fine_ ” with her. Even though they were significantly slowed down, it wasn't a very strenuous or difficult task. The bags on their backs were only filled with wood, with the exception of paper in Six's, and did not strain them very heavily. They could still retain their weapons in their hands when they rolled the spool, as well.

 

After a very long time walking, they were finally on the main road. It would only be around another forty minutes to an hour before they reached the house. Pushing the spool was easier on the hard asphalt.

 

Five was walking ahead of them at the time, as Two and Seven were rolling their loot for a while. He was looking off towards the desolate remains of towering architecture, letting his eye skim around the bottom areas. They hadn't yet found any batteries, so while Five stayed ahead he would keep his eye out for them.

 

Six had been quiet. He hadn't talked at all since they left the destroyed store earlier. He was fidgety, and kept staring off in one direction then looking behind them down the road. He stayed close to Five a few steps behind, so it wasn't hard for Five to keep track of him. Five wanted to assume Six was simply upset that he'd been yelled at, or that he was frightened of what Seven has said. But the further they walked, the more agitated Six seemed to be.

 

When Five glanced back at Six for the hundredth time, he noticed Six held his needle upside down. He was nervously scrapping the sharp end up against the underside of his pointer finger, still staring in that one direction and frowning.

 

“Six, quit that, you'll hurt yourself.” Five told him carefully, refraining from sounding demanding.

 

Six acted as if he didn't hear Five, but after a few seconds he stopped his scrapping. He looked over his shoulder, then back into the distance.

 

Five decided it was time he said something. Six's behavior made him feel on edge. It was as if his friend was on the verge of a breakdown. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked softly, slowing his pace so that they'd be walking beside each other.

 

The other two stitchpunks moving the spool behind them listened, intrigued. They hadn't want to say anything, since Six had not responded to their voices after they left the building earlier.

 

Six did not reply.

 

“Six?” Five asked, looking back at Two and Seven, who shrugged when they met eyes.

 

In the stiff stagnant air, a shrill cry rang out in the Emptiness. It was like metal grinding harshly upon metal. All the stitchpunks stopped and stiffened, and Six began to whimper loudly.

 

“Oh no.” Seven whispered.

 

“What the heck was that?” Five whined, gripping down almost painfully on Six's arm as the little doll made pathetic noises.

 

Two crossed his arms and looked at Seven. He was shocked, and certainly looked the part.

 

Knowing what he was thinking, Seven nodded. “We need to speed up.” she told them quietly, so Two and Seven shoved harder on the spool.

 

“Okay. Okay.” Five breathed, moving to walk beside the spool rather than in front. He drug Six with him, though Six didn't resist. “I'm doing to die.”

 

“Not yet.” finally spoke Six, who still did not look at him.

 

“W-what?” exclaimed a flabbergasted Five, horrified.

 

Six looked up into his friend's face and blinked. “Oh. I don't know.”

 

“Shhh, shut up!” Seven hissed.

 

The two dolls obliged and stopped talking. Their pace had increased, yet Five didn't feel safe at all. He let go of Six so he could have both hands for the crossbow. The weapon was experimental and hadn't been tested much, but it worked. He had six needles of different sizes as ammo in a side pocket of his pack. In the worst case scenario he could also take Six's.

 

When another terrifying, yet quieter screech echoed in the Emptiness, Five reached back with shaking hands to load the weapon. “Six,” he whispered. “you might have to use that.” he nodded towards the needle in Six's hands. Six seemed unsure but nodded back at him.

 

The group carried on. The sun was half way below the horizon, turning the clouds and dust pinks and purples. It was almost beautiful if not for the imminent threat of darkness. In the light they stood a chance of escape, in the dark they would become lost.

 

There was no sound for a rough ten minutes, and then they saw their house in the distance. Five switched with Two for the time being, since Five was faster and stronger than Two. They tried to hurry in their fear.

 

Finally at the front of the house, they shoved the spool up onto the concrete slab in front of the hole that was once a front door. Home sweet home. Five and Seven rolled it through the gap.

 

Two watched, relieved. He stood at the door frame, a hand on the wood, and looked back out into the quickly dying light. It was barely bright enough to see. Had they been out any longer and they would have had to wander home in the dark or wait it out somewhere safe.

 

He sighed and began to turn to follow his friends. Before he turned he bumped into Six beside him, who he hadn't noticed. Six held his key with one hand and pointed with the needle, out towards the road. “Look.”

 

Two turned back to the sight and tried to determine what Six was going on about. He squinted and leaned forward, following the end of the sharp instrument.

 

A deep set silhouette inched just above a diagonal beam of steal. Two gaped and clasped at his chest. He saw a dim stream of red and white light, moving with the dark jagged figure. Gripping onto Six's wrist, he pulled him gently inside along with him. “Come, we do not need to stay out here.”

 

The light inside was stretched thin. Hardly anything came in through the blotched roof or shattered windows. They made their way by memory, and made it quickly to their room and mouse hole.

 

The only problem was that the hole was closed.

 

“What the hell!” complained Seven, trying to knock her hand against the brick. “One! You prick!”

 

“That won't do any good.” Two comforted softly. He held out a hand in a gesture of peace. “We need to be quiet. There's something near the house.”

 

“W-what is?” Five shook. Six, who had calmed down a lot, still looked distant and displeased.

 

Two shook his head. “I don't know. I saw it's eyes- they glow. I think it was tracking us, somehow.”

 

Seven growled. She was getting increasingly pissed off with their situation. The others watched as she stomped out of the room, Five chasing after her and trying to call out quietly for her.

 

He found her at the kitchen mouse hole, trying to get a hold on one of the wood boards, weapon laying still on the floor. After a bit of relentless scrapping and tugging, she yelled at Five to stop standing there and help her.

 

They pulled at what little grip they had on one of the boards, but to no avail.

 

“I made sure there wasn't a way in from this side again. One's orders.” Five explained softly to a fuming Seven. She punched his arm and he whimpered an apology. “Wh-why not use your blade?”

 

Seven looked down and shook her head. “I don't think think that'll work, it's flimsy. But I'll try.”

 

So she struck and chipped at the wood violently, which did more to dull the blade than break the wood. She did however get a considerable chunk off, not before quickly rounding and chipping the tip of the thin blade. “Ugh.” she growled, and gestured for Five to follow. “Let's check the front door again.”

 

Outside the bricked up door Two and Six stood quiet and close together, backs pressed against the wall. Waiting. Unmoving. Two was keeping an eye on the door that lead into the room. In a few minutes it would be impossible to see a thing. It was hard to even see his friends retreating back in from the kitchen. Their bodies were but dark shapes in an ever darkening house.

 

“Oh, what do we do?” whispered Five as he came up. “I-If that- that thing out there f-f-finds us...” he slumped onto the floor on the other side of Six and hugged his knees, feeling devastated. “Couldn't have.. f-followed this far.”

 

“I'm gonna kill him.” Seven paced.

 

Two watched her walking back and forth sadly, and Six stared at the floor from his position between Two and Five.

 

“Surely One wouldn't leave us outside. Perhaps he only closed it out of fear, and can not hear us at the door.” Two tried to reason optimistically.

 

“Right.” Seven scowled. She knocked violently against the wood beside the hole. “I bet he can hear that!” she roared.

 

“S-Seven, please!” Five begged. He hugged himself tighter from where he sat. Six squatted down to pat and pet him, attempting to calm.

 

She looked at him and took a breath, trying to slow down. She was scaring her friends. They were right, she needed to keep her voice low. In her anger she wasn't thinking straight. After a few minutes her fury subsided to a simmering irritation, and she sat down beside Five, weapon propped on the wall.

 

 _Knockknockknockknockknock_ soon came a rapid series of sound muffled from the layers of wood between the wall. Everyone jumped and looked toward the spot the noise had originated from.

 

Seven leaned and knocked back with the same fever. “Open up!” she called, trying not to be as loud as before.

 

They waited for a reply or for the brick to move. Instead, after a long moment of silence, came more knocking. By this time the room was bathed in total ebony. The moon was not high enough to provide them with any means of light, though there was a faint glow from the outlines of the edgy mouse hole. It was the fire within the wall.

 

“I bet it's One just trying to piss us off.” Seven mumbled.

 

“M-maybe we should move un-under the bed?” suggested Five. He would feel safer with a lower roof.

 

Then the scrapping of stone upon wood reached them, and the brick finally began to move out of the way. The blinking light of flame oozed out into the darkness of the bedroom, brightening everyone's spirits. The door was open enough for them to squeeze through, but not enough for the spool. While the spool was as tall as an average stitchpunk, it was not as skinny as one.

 

A loud clanking as if something having been knocked over or thrown echoed in from outside the room, so the dolls unanimously decided they had no more reason to wait around and filed inside the gap without the thread.

 

The first thing that happened was Two and Five held Seven back. One, Eight, and the Twins were near by, and Seven's every instinct told her to finally throttle One. Even if it gave a bad show to the Twins. Six ignored everyone and ran off to his bed with the bag still upon his back, needle discarded.

 

“You stuck up snob! You heard us outside, didn't ya?” she snarled, Five and Two keeping her by the arms. “Well, bet you wouldn't be looking so happy if you had known we heard the machine out there, and Two even saw it! We could have been killed!”

 

One, incredulous, shook his head at her and kept a good space between them. Eight already closed the door, leaving the spool they worked hard to retrieve outside.

 

“Please, you're being dramatic.” One commented.

 

“I am going to punch you in the face.”

 

One huffed. “You were hardly out there for more than twenty minutes, it's not as if I left you for dead all night!” he defended. “I only wanted to frighten you a little bit. You'd understand why I didn't want you going outside.”

 

With Five and Two's gentle convincing they kept her from getting physical. They began to walk with her to the collection pile, passing by the Twins. The two smiled at them and knocked on the wall. It was their way of saying _“it was us! It was us! We knocked on the wall, we heard you,”_ so Seven, exhausted, smiled back.

 

“I hope the trip was worth it. After you are all done emptying out your things, come to the fire.” One called after them.

 

Two gave him a solemn nod, and they went to dump out their bags of wood and return their weapons.

 

–

 

Everyone was hushed. They generally let their eyes stick upon a single spot. It was as if they were worn and emotionally toiled by the days work. Seven mumbled to the twins, sitting with them upon a blanket by the blazing fire. Even they who had not gone beyond the door seemed unsettled and jittery.

 

Despite everyone having been situated around the fire for at least five minutes, One appeared reluctant to say anything. Instead he sat close to Eight and peered thoughtfully into the fire. He did that often, but the intensity of his gaze almost frightened. He sighed and rubbed around one of his optics.

 

Without standing he spoke. “You said you saw the machine.” He sounded tired.

 

The soft words of Seven stopped, and all the stitchpunks became attentive. Two lifted his head from close by, having before been lost in thought. “Yes. Six and I did.”

 

One pursed his lips and straightened his back where he sat. He acted uncomfortable. “Did you get a good look?”

 

Two shook his head. “No, the sun was behind it. All I saw was the silhouette and some shining lights. It was smaller than any other machine we've met before.”

 

One hummed. “How close was it to us?”

 

“The road outside the house. We saw it just across the street.”

 

“Did it see you?”

 

Two shook his head again.

 

One leaned forward and breathed with relief. “It will find us.” he complained. “If we keep going outside.”

 

“But we have to go back out there to find things we need!” Seven retorted quickly. “We left the spool out there, too.”

 

One held up a hand. “You don't think I know this, Seven?”

 

“If it comes around the wall, I'll cut it's head off.” threatened Eight bravely. It would be the most he'd speak for a week.

 

One frowned. “Not if it's stronger than you! And it most certainly will be!” he scowled.

 

Eight frowned deeply, rather offended. He took to pouting.

 

“W-what should we do?” spoke a fearful Five, with his shoulder against Two's for comfort and support.

 

“We just.. we just need to stay put.” One replied.

 

“No, no,” answered Six, who had before not been very talkative. “the monster will find us.”

 

One scoffed. “Nonsense! How can it get to us if we are careful? With the wall blocked up, it can't get in. Especially after we boarded up the kitchen hole better.”

 

“The- the monster will find us!” Six spat out quickly, repeating himself. Five placed an arm around him and squeezed his shoulder to distract and quiet him.

 

There was a sigh from Two, whose usual smile vanished long ago. “You're right One.” he admitted. “I know I had doubts before. About closing the door. But now..”

 

“Ugh!” Seven hissed. She stood up. “Why don't we just stop throwing our tails between out legs and find somewhere better?”

 

“Better.” Six echoed.

 

“That's dumb.” Eight grumbled lowly.

 

One guffawed loudly. “Yes Seven, let's all just waltz on outside right now in the dark. Perfect. Let's just walk riiight up to an armed beast set out on killing, hold hands, and sing kumbaya. Maybe it will be our friend and we can walk on straight to a better house.”

 

Seven tilted her head down and crossed her arms. She gave One an obvious expression of humor. “Yup. That's exactly what I said.” she drolled sarcastically. “Seriously- we have knifes and blades and heck, Five and Two keep working on that crossbow- why _can't_ we just go somewhere else? If it comes to it we could probably do a _little_ damage! I mean, it's obviously not that big!”

 

“Why don't we vote on it.” Two suggested, hoping to keep Seven and One from spinning off into a debate.

 

“Good idea.” Five added.

 

“All in favor of staying put within the wall?” called out One.

 

He counted the little metal hands: Five, Two, One, and Eight.

 

“Those in favor of leaving?” Seven asked as soon as the hands were down. She and the twins rose their hands. “Six?” she asked.

 

“Hm.” he acknowledged.

 

“You didn't raise your hand.”

 

Six squirmed. Everyone was looking at him. “Oh.”

 

“Are you for leaving?”

 

He blinked and scrunched his eyebrows. “Huh?”

 

Five gently nudged him. “Are you in favor of staying in the wall or leaving it.” he elaborated.

 

Six looked between Seven and Five, then awkwardly about the other faces. He didn't like them all staring at him. “Couldn't leave Five. Not when..” he trailed off, not finishing his sentence.

 

Seven stomped a foot and sat back down with the twins. They patted and petted her, but she swatted them away.

 

Satisfied, One stood up. “Well then. We had our vote. Eight, Seven, you both have watch tonight. I cannot risk having any less than my strongest guarding the doors.”

 

“Now he's just being a kiss ass.” Seven grumbled to the twins. “'Cause he's scared I'm gonna kick _his_ ass.”

 

 


	14. The Sky?

He'd been so quiet today. The daylight had lasted terribly long, it felt endless until they were scrambling for home at sunset. It was all like a dream. He only had a vague understanding of what was happening, what he'd said, and what was going to later occur. His inward predictions were so muddled and misty that determining exactly when a thing was to happen was like trying to find a four leaf clover by staring at a patch of grass from five feet away. Put more simply, it was difficult.

 

Despite all this he felt an obligation to go along on the supply run. The clover he was looking for was nearby and that was all he knew. As if with every passing hour he took a step closer, the feet between he and the grass closing dramatically. He had been too nervous to speak. On their way home, at long last, Six plucked the clover from the ground, roots ragged and drying in the stale air. Everything he'd said to Five before about his fear was coming true.

 

He and Two watched it come closer before the older had led Six inside. They all huddled into the wall safely. When Six escaped the group to return to his bed and dump out his paper, he could not help but glance back fretfully at the door. The brick stood ridged as always. Could that really stop a monster? If something wanted inside it would find a way.

 

It was as if he were alone at the meeting. Even though he sat close to Five, he didn't register Five until he had touched him. Six had been too lost in his own anxious words and imagination to pay much attention to the bickering dolls around him. As soon as he spoke his vote it felt the meeting ended, sending the group off to their designated areas.

 

He was having such mixed emotions. Between the cat outside, his disjointed friends, and the various thoughts in his head, Six was stuck between feelings. He could not decide if what was to happen was good or not. It would have him switch between a nervous sadness and a feeling of flighty acceptance.

 

“Six. Six. Hey, come on.” Five called to him softly, barely shaking his shoulder.

 

“Yes, I am coming.” he finally said, standing up. Everyone else had already gone, but Five was waiting for him.

 

They walked slowly to Six's bed, talking with voices low.

 

“I'm scared.” Five admitted, wringing his hands.

 

Six nodded. “I think it will be over soon.”

 

Five hummed, tilting his head.

 

“Will end quickly.” Six tried, hoping that sounded better.

 

Five blinked and sighed. “You've been s-strange.”

 

The other shrugged, looking up at Five. “Oh.”

 

The one-eye waited for something more, but Six did not continue. He looked on. They reached the tangled mess of a blanket bundle and stopped walking. The clean sheets of paper Six had collected earlier lay scattered around, one new drawing already present. Six had sloppily threw it together when they arrived.

 

“You drew something new? Already?”

 

Six had a grace of a smile. “Mm!”

 

Five stepped around and looked it over. When his drawings were examined Six always seemed delighted. It was a familiar shape. In the style of an older ink drawing of his, it was a large jagged feline creature. This time with slightly more detail, the quick and uneven strokes made it look unfinished. There were lots of little black splatters where Six had jerked his fingers, leaving the spots to fling off onto the paper.

 

Five squinted at it, and shuttered. It was less like a real cat and more like something of a spiked demon. It held no mice.

 

“Do you still have nightmares?” Five finally asked after hesitation. His voice dripped with loving concern.

 

He shrugged a shoulder. “That's the cat! That's the one!”

 

“The cat?”

 

“Yes, remember, the one at the door.” Six nodded vigorously, more energetic and talkative than he had been all day. He was more prone to mood swings recently, Five had noticed.

 

Five hugged his arms and stared at the ink. “The one at the door.” he mused. “H-have you seen it? In detail?”

 

Six grabbed at his key and smiled a bit wider. What an odd time to be so happy. “Yes! You see.”

 

Distraught, Five gaped. “Where? With Two?”

 

Six stopped smiling and furrowed his brows. “No,” He pursed his lips and rapped his sharp nibs against the dark metal of his key. “Sleeping, sometimes not. Saw it coming, we will leave. I think.”

 

He was incredulous, not sure he was understanding Six's explanation correctly. “Six, I think we're in a lot of d-danger.” Five sat down on the covers and crossed his legs. He placed his head in his hands and supported his elbows upon his thighs, slumping.

 

Six stepped closer and patted Five on the head. “Think of the sky!”

 

“The sky?” Five mumbled.

 

“Yes,” Six got onto his knees. “on top of the planet and looking out and up.” Six stared forward with awe. “Up there. Can see everything.”

 

Five removed his head from his hands, and sent Six an expression of worry. “I.. guess I.. am too anxious.” he pointed off down the hall. “Seven is guarding t-the door. We're all holed up. M-maybe we'll be safe.”

 

The little stripped doll smiled more coyly. That wasn't what he was trying to say, but at least it had made Five calm his nerves. He blinked away visions of deep blue skies and moved to settle in the blankets. Six took a deep breath. They would not sleep tonight.

 

–

 

He could see the leaves in his hand. Holding out a fist before his eyes, he stared intensely at the damp green material. The sight of such a thing was devilish and filled his fiber with unease. All at once he shook it away, and there was no longer the blurry image of a clover in his fist. Just his imagination.

 

Five was standing up, shaking violently, and clasping onto Six's hand in a death grip. Six remained seated but was being prompted by Five to stand up with him. There had been noise outside loud enough to hear from the other end of the hollow.

 

Seven had backed up, metal knife poised, and stared at the pinkish brick before her. If Five could have seen her face she'd have looked horrified.

 

He'd been too stunned and engrossed with watching the door that he'd not noticed Two come up to he and still sitting Six.

 

“This is bad.” Two said to them, waking Five from his fear driven stupor.

 

“We're going to die.” Five whimpered.

 

Two flicked his shoulder, causing him to yelp. “That pessimism _will_ certainly get you killed!”

 

“D-don't say that!” Five complained.

 

Two sighed. He was fidgeting with the loops on his chest. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm just..”

 

“Scared!” Six finished.

 

Nod.

 

The three let themselves go silent, listening. Seven waited in her position, occasionally looking down the hall towards the kitchen mouse hole though she couldn't see it well. That was where Eight was positioned. It was more vulnerable than the brick.

 

Five minutes passed. One was at the fire which still blazed heavily nearby the front door. It's deep orange light kept the wall lit up with its glow. The dark areas shone with artificial light. The twins were apparently missing from sight, though one could assume they were hiding somewhere.

 

“I see you've put the paper to use.” came Two, breaking the still air.

 

When no one said anything he shuffled to look down on it, finally daring to move. Five had stopped shaking, and slumped down beside Six again, still clasping his hand but loosening his grip.

 

“Is this...” Two whispered, painstakingly picking the drawing up to hold in front of him. “is this the machine?” he asked.

 

“W-what?” Five questioned.

 

“Uh-huh.” Six confirmed.

 

Two turned to them. “Six and I saw the dark silhouette of the machine today. I recognize the shape. This is so... detailed.”

 

Five awed at Six. “So that really is th-the machine? Is that how it l-looks?”

 

_SCRRRRRRRR_

 

Everyone jumped and whipped around to the awful scratching upon the wood, Seven deepening her defensive position at the door.

 

Five once again took to shaking and wanted dearly to run far, far away, but found himself instead clinging onto Six as if he were his safety blanket.

 

“Remain calm!” One tried to cry loudly enough for all to hear. “We are safe within the walls!” it was clear that One was worried, the expression upon his face did not convey what he spoke.

 

_**BANG! BANG!** _

 

“One! I told you we should have left!” Seven growled back at him. “Eight get your ass over here!” she then yelled down the hall.

 

The loud creaking and cackling of rusted joints could be heard from outside. Scratching and scrapping up on the wood continued, the creature occasionally ramming into the wall as if to break it. They were under attack. Metal upon metal moved from the left to the right, trying its luck all the way as it slowly made its way closer to the brick door.

 

“Wh-what do we do?” Whispered Five against Six's shoulder, which he had hid his face against.

 

Two has since placed the drawing back upon the floor. He shook and watched his pupil and friend with empathy. “I.. don't know.”

 

“Leave.” Six suggested, unable to move with Five's scared hold upon him.

 

There came more loud banging upon the wall, shaking the barrier between the outside and inside only slightly. Eight had already come to Seven, much larger knife resting against his shoulder. He was uneasy but tried to keep his cool. Every so often he'd glance back at the pacing One by the fire, as if to see if he were still safe.

 

“We need to find the twins.” Two said, looking around. He then walked off, calling out their individual names as carefully as he could.

 

Five finally released Six, trying to keep from getting too much more worked up. He kept his hands moving and stood.

 

“We need to leave!” Seven yelled at One from her position. She was keeping track of where the beast was beyond the wall.

 

“No! We'll be safe in here!” One retorted back, stopping his pacing. Eight didn't say anything.

 

“You're going to get us killed!”

 

“No, _you're_ going to get us killed!”

 

They began to argue, choice insults being brought up. Five tugged at his button and became stressed. “Please, stop!” he chimed in loud enough to go over their annoyed voices. They did not hear him and continued.

 

Two returned to he and Six. “The twins are by the collection pile. They refuse to move.” he informed. Two turned to look back at the arguing dolls. “Let's get out of here.”

 

Five's pupil dilated.“But-”

 

“It won't get to us in the kitchen if we leave _now_ and get away from the house. We can hide!”

 

Five didn't argue any further, and followed Two. Six grabbed Squeakers before letting Five lead him by the hand to go with Two. As they came to the fire Two stopped. “If you'd like to leave, come with us. Otherwise-” he frowned, deciding to be more direct. “please, One, let's go.”

 

One scowled but didn't make any comments as Seven and Eight removed themselves from their post to hoof it. He stayed behind but a few seconds, before turning his scowl to the brick door as if he could make the monster leave by will. Instead he was given a nice nudge against the brick, causing it to shudder, and with that his feet moved on their own.

 


	15. On the Run

From the inside they could pry off the nailed down wood boards. Five was shaking too bad and Two was too weak, so Eight used their tools with Seven to quickly rip them away. While they made fast work of it, the others gathered up as much supplies as they could from their pile. Many things could not fit in the limited amount of bags they owned.

 

Two, the brave soul, ran back towards the fire, saying he forgot something. He returned quickly, and by the time he came back the kitchen door was totally opened up. “It's nudging the brick away from the hole.” he warned uneasily.

 

Six bags where filled to their capacity, all but One and the twins carried them. Eight carried two of the six. Everyone took up a weapon they could use, and with the loud clattering sound that caused the floor to tremble they hurriedly removed themselves from the wall, Eight having difficulty but got out with minimal damage.

 

The darkness was unbearable, the very faintest of moonlight came into the room, illuminating the tiles. Two, who cleverly brought one of their bulbs and coin batteries, was able to shine white light on the room enough for them to see. The single light was not much in the expansive kitchen, but it would work.

 

The grumbling from inside caused them to move fervently, with Eight staying in the back. Five, who was violently encouraged to keep ahead of Eight, looked back with wary and covered his mouth to hold in a scream. The terrifying dirtied white of bone and burning bloody red peered out into the kitchen. It knew where they were; it saw them!

 

Two, who had been notified by Five's throaty sound, turned off the light. They all made their way together for the door that led outside in nothing more than pale celestial lighting. The heavy bags upon their shoulders weighed them down and their feet tapped swiftly against the floor.

 

“RAHHHHH!” shrieked the machine, who could not fit its head out the kitchen mouse hole. It was simply too small for the mish-mash of a thing to fit. A long arm ending in threatening claws expended from the hole, as if it would somehow help it get out. The group was far, far away from the hole already. They were unreachable. The arm bent, the sharpened tips of the gangly claws came in contact with the wood and scratched at it, in what might have been a fruitless attempt to widen the hole.

 

When the clawing did not make the wood give way, the arm returned into the door. Again its great red eye looked out into the kitchen, searching. The dolls were gone. It could no longer see their skittering feet. In anger that its prey had escaped it backed away from the hole and allowed itself a stress releasing growl. The machine would have to wander back out the door it came in and make its way out into the night. They could not have moved far.

 

–

 

Once they all dropped down from the concrete slab beyond the front door of the house the bulb came back on. Clouds were slowly pushing and pulling in the wind far above their heads, undecided on whether or not to let the moon shine.

 

“Now what?” hissed One, who looked close to hitting Two.

 

“Shhh, keep moving. We need to hide somewhere it won't find us this time.” he replied.

 

Seven was ahead of them all, standing on a colored block of wood. She looked out over the dark world, unable to see much of anything. “This way.” she gently called to them, pointing off in the distance. She knew the surroundings well. They were etched into her whirring mind. With that she leaped from the block and waited for them to follow.

 

The dim light of the bulb Two kept on via touching wires to the battery was their saving grace. The little it showed them of the ground about them was still more than they could ever see without it. Seven kept in front, leading them on. She glanced back every now and again, to make sure they were keeping up. One did not complain.

 

The night was dead quiet besides their feet in the dirt. What did stitchpunks know of the sounds of a busy road or the barking of dogs at midnight? They were engrossed by the lack of noise and accepted it as normal.

 

Six, who stayed nearby Five, was watching the dusty ground as he walked with the group. He pouted profusely. There was only a fuzzy knowing of what was supposed to happen at this point, giving him room to feel concern over his empty hand. “I dropped Squeakers.” he whispered.

 

Five looked down on him, still full of shivers. He was too scared to speak, so instead he gave a light rub to the other's back to show understanding. Six sighed with melancholy.

 

“Are we close?” asked One, stepping ahead to walk closer to Seven.

 

Seven glanced at him and nodded.

 

They were following the road now, the house still well enough in sight to frighten them. They kept their pace swift. One looked back and gasped, seeing the sparkle and glare of a white light outside the house. He placed his hand roughly on Seven's shoulder. “We need to hurry! It's coming!” he rasped.

 

She sneered and grumbled. Then she stopped and pointed to the side of the road. “We can hide in there for a while.”

 

They slipped off the asphalt and looked up at the lump of metal. It was a mangled, but mostly intact, car that had been abandoned. One of the doors was left flung open and the windshield was cracked, as if something heavy had hit it.

 

“No, that's too open.” One fretted.

 

Seven crossed her arms. “No its not. Unless the machine climbs invisible stairs that is.” She smiled at his guffaw and moved over to one of the front tires, loosening a bit of fabric that was tucked under the rubber just enough to not simply hang over the edge of the open door. “I've been up there before. We'll be _fine._ ”

 

“How do we...?” Five asked out loud.

 

Seven rolled her eyes. “Uh, climb?” She tugged on the fabric to show that it did not fall from the car. “It's attached. Come on!” So Seven turned and climbed expertly up the hanging cloth, up into the interior of the vehicle. One went greedily next, and then the others more clumsily found their way, gravity trying to drag them and their bags back to the earth. Two had to shut off the light and have Five help him.

 

After the fabric, which was attached via safety pin to the front seat, was pulled in with them, the dolls backed away beneath the chair, ducking. Eight had to sit.

 

“We'll be safe here for a while.” Seven whispered to the group. “It's too high for the thing to reach.”

 

There was a silence between everyone. The light was kept off. If they could see each others' faces, they would see the great despair and fear that all of them were giving off. Even Eight and Seven, who both held the 'tough guy' rep, were distressed. The machine after them may have been smaller than is typical, but it was still a machine.

 

“Are we just supposed to stay in here all night?” One grumbled.

 

“Yes!” the less than happy Seven snarled. “Unless you want to be the first to leave?” she smiled in the darkness.

They together decided that Seven's plan was sound. They would rest and hide in the partially crashed human vehicle until the sun rose and they had a better advantage. It was not ideal, but it was safe.

 

Everyone, mentally exhausted from it all, piled their bulging backpacks in a spot and set out to settling down. A few blankets had been saved, though only enough for three dolls. One snatched one, Three and Four in their quickness took the opportunity to sneak one, and Two was just lucky enough to have been given the last by Seven. She said she didn't need it. In turn, Two, with his ever showing empathy, forced Five to take it. Five did not want to, but eventually he did.

 

Seven stayed awake all night, removed from beneath the seat. One was terrified enough to fall asleep sitting up and pressed hard against Eight's awkward side. Two weaved in and out of slumber, while the twins were knocked out within five minutes. Five and Six, as they had become accustomed to, kept themselves pressed together upon the blanket they were generously given.

 

Neither of them found any rest. Six was gently tucked under Five's chin, as they faced each other. Five originally had clung on tightly, as if scared that Six or he would suddenly vanish, but his arms now were loose and limp. Five, unable to find his apertures able to close, nuzzled a little and tried to push back Six's mop of hair to no avail.

 

Six himself was unmoving and mournful. He stayed calm with Five's gentle touch, but eventually found himself more awake as movement ceased. Five dozed, but come morning the both of them would find they had been asleep for hardly two hours.

 

With the light's final arrival, Seven set out to scouting ahead. The others waited for her return inside the car. After a few long minutes she came back and called them down.

 

“We can't go back there.” said Two as the rest of the dolls climbed to the ground.

 

One sighed and stared down the road sadly. “You're right.” he agreed. “But, where will we go?”

 

The last of the group met them below, and all felt confused and lost. Six looped he and Five's arms and pressed his head into his shoulder, while Three and Four were uncharacteristically sluggish and dazed.

 

“We should follow the road.” suggested Seven. “We know where it goes, maybe we could try some of the housed on the side.”

 

“No no,” One retorted. “we need to go far, _far_ away, where that monster will never find us again.”

 

Seven huffed, but knew he was correct.

 

They stayed beside the cracked asphalt, moving on away from their compromised home. They were set to walk until they could walk no more. Seven no longer led them, instead opting to keep a close eye on their surroundings. Just because the monster had not discovered their hiding spot in the night did not mean it was out of range to find them in the light.

 

They must have been walking for an hour and a half. It was still early, the dust in the sky was transitioning from pinks to muddled, dirty oranges. Their surroundings had become unfamiliar but twenty minutes back. They had even took a turn in the road. The houses and enormous desolate buildings that dotted their world were unknown and eerie to them.

 

The wind picked up, sending a tattered sheet into the tumbling air and off towards the distance. The wind then rubbed against something, pushing its body against it and making awful clattering and whistling sounds. The group cringed.

 

“One,” Two spoke up, trying to scrape a few sand grains from his inner optic. “my joints are killing me. Can't we rest for a few moments?”

 

“That won't be the only thing that's killing you if we stop.” One spat.

 

Seven in turn thumped One's shoulder painfully. That was the first time she'd laid a hand on him. Eight puffed up as if to strike her for her minor attack. The pale doll sneered. “One, we've been walking forever. If we don't rest, Two'll probably collapse.”

 

Two smirked at her obvious exaggeration, but let her fight for them.

 

One sneered right back at her. They stared each other down but One gave in. “Fine. We can rest. Fifteen minutes is all I'm giving.” so he turned and marched to find somewhere to plop down.

 

Five breathed with relief. He looked back at Six, who had been dragging himself along slowly for a while. Five couldn't tell if he was tired or if he was moping, for he kept his face towards the ground. They shared a glance and went to sit under a almost tipped over lawn chair, which had ended up fairly close to the road at some point in history.

 

“I hope we don't walk much further.” Five mumbled, laying onto his back in the shade. “I-I don't think I've _ever_ gone so long w-without stopping.”

 

Six was sitting beside him, partially hunched over with his palms flat in the dirt between his legs. He sighed. “Mmm.” he hummed.

 

They were quiet, and Five closed his eyes for a second. Six leaned and kissed his forehead, causing him to open them again. Despite their situation he could not keep away a smile. “Are you feeling better?” Five asked.

 

“Still sad, dropped it.”

 

Five sat up and rubbed his back. “I'll make you a new doll. O-okay?”

 

Six nodded slowly, fiddling with his key.

 

It was then they heard Seven scream. From where they were Five and Six saw nothing, but her voice rang out loud and fearful. “ _Run!_ ” Then came clanking and hissing and the sound of something falling. They heard the distinct squeak of rusty metal, the knacking of strong jaws. Someone screamed as the two dolls darted away with panic.

 

They tried to run in separate directions but jerked into one another, joined at the hands. Scrambling to figure out a silent plan of action, Five finally drug Six in the direction of a large dark green pill bottle. The opening was much smaller than the inside, and they barely squeezed in. Someone else yelled, which was muffled by the walls of the shaded bottle that they huddled at the back of.

 

The two couldn't see much out of the colored, cylindrical walls. They didn't move from where they squatted on their knees. Five squinted at the plastic, trying to see something outside of it.

 

Long spacious minutes carried on. The two remained still, holding one another for comfort and protection. Five could finally see some movement, and he froze even the dilation and contraction of his pupils.

 

They jumped when someone leaned over to peer into the bottle's opening. Five released a held breath. It was just One. “O-One.” he stuttered, as if to confirm it with his voice.

 

“There you two are.” he said. They could hear the scared shiver in his tone, though he was trying to hide it. “We were looking for you.” he removed himself from the opening so the two stitchpunks could come out of hiding.

 

One led them over to the rest of the group, who were keeping low in the deep shadow of a dead bush beside a house. He crossed his arms. “Found them.”

 

“Thank goodness!” sighed Two, shuffling over to hug them both. He squeezed hard. Five thought Two would cry if his body were built to. “You're safe! I'm so glad.” he let them go.

 

“W-w-what happened?” Five asked softly. He looked around and started, a cold feeling in his unsteady legs. “Where is-?”

 

Two's joyous expression melted into a solemn one. “Seven and the twins..”

 

“Are dead.” One exclaimed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, where the updates stopped in Apr 2015! I really don't understand why I didn't finish the final chapter or epilogue, but I'm working on them now. Expect it hopefully within 1-3 days.


	16. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half of this chapter has been sleeping within an Open Office document since 2015. I just went ahead and finished the final half. All that's left is an epilogue. Be on the look out.

“Dead!” Five yelled. He twisted his head down to look at Six, who was curling in over himself slightly and hiding his face with his hands.

 

“Shh!” One hissed.

 

“Quiet.” Eight reiterated.

 

Five rubbed his face, eyes unfocused. “They can't.. c-can't be.”

 

“Then where have they gone?” asked One. He sounded so uncaring and blunt, almost frustrated.

 

“We didn't find the bodies.” Two replied, his sadness a contrast with One. “But we did find this.” he held out a scrap of cloth towards Five that Five had not noticed he'd been holding.

 

Five took hold of it as if he could not believe it was tangible. It was a simple white sliver of fabric, which had obviously come from Seven. He stared at it, lip quivering. He leaned and pressed his head against it and began to whine. He was close with Seven. It was upsetting Three and Four were gone as well, but it was Seven's death that was hitting him.

 

Two and Six both hugged Five. Two rubbed Five's arm and Six nuzzled his shoulder. One kept his arms crossed and looked away. It made him feel guilty. Eight's face betrayed his otherwise stoic body, but one could argue it was out of fear and not sadness.

 

“How do.. we know th-they're gone.” asked Five as Two stepped back, though Six remained pushed against him. “Maybe.. m-maybe still hiding. An-and she's h-h-hurt.” he rationalized.

 

Two opened his mouth to speak then closed it. He blinked, looking down. One spoke since Two was taking too long. “Because, the machine obviously made off with them. Otherwise it'd still be around. It grabbed them and ran off, supplies and all.”

 

It took a long time for Five to regain some dignity. He wanted nothing more then to curl up in the dead grass and lay there til day turned to night. If the monster came back for seconds and found Five there perhaps he would simply let himself be snatched away.

 

One and Two, who both grieved in their own manner, had to nudge Five forward so he would move at all. They still needed to find a safe heaven. The sun was burning at the top of the sky, threatening to drip down in a few long hours. The dust and tumbling clouds made it otherwise gloomy, if not for the occasional beam of gold from between cracks in the vapor. So they went on.

 

After another dreary hour of tedious travel Two pointed out the lumbering form of distant, mostly intact architecture. They could see the tip of the building and the sharp steeple. “That's a religious location.” Two informed them. “It is where humans would go to worship gods.”

 

Five listened but was in no mood to ask questions to prompt a lecture of the subject. Six, who was walking with their arms looped as if to support Five, asked “Worship gods?”

 

Two nodded and smiled sadly as they walked tiredly, their bags aching their slumped shoulders. “They would sit, and a special human would read them stories from a book, and then they would worship the book and sing.” he tapped his chin, looking at at the steeple. “I believe.”

 

One scoffed at Two's last statement. “Believe or know?” he grumbled.

 

Two was not in the mood to bother with One. They were quiet for a few minutes before One spoke up again. “Hm. We should go to the worship place. It's the tallest building.”

 

“Good idea.” said Two.

 

They walked on and on and on deeper into the city, passing by heaps of destroyed vehicles and dead bodies from both human and animal. Six grimaced as they walked around the fallen form of a splayed bird that still retained it's lustrous blue-grey feathers. Five half expected Two to identify the type of bird, but he did not.

 

It was like they were seeing the world for the first time after living in a snow globe. For a while, after they had stopped running from the humans and their machines, they had been alone in their house. They stayed mostly within the wall and the short distance One allotted them to travel. Finally they could see the end results of the war between human and machine. Everything was dead. Absolutely everything.

 

“The things that happened here.” One said quietly, shaking his head and sounding more distraught then Five had ever heard him before. He glared at a lump of tipped over metal. It was almost unidentifiable if one did not know what it was, but looking at it one could see it was a dead robot. Its long red legs jutted out from its big head, and its eye, which would glow if it were alive, was totally dark.

 

Five had to look away from it, feeling himself begin to shake against his will. The hole beneath his eye patch tingled and stung. Two noticed and patted his shoulder. “We'll be there soon.” he comforted.

 

They were forced to rest with the sunset. It just barely filtered in through the raging dust. Five stared up and wished it would rain, but he knew rain no longer happened as often as it once had. They took refuge under a large piece of fallen dry wall that was situated against something as if to form a makeshift lean-to. It was just cramped enough to give a sense a safety, forcing them to duck just as they had to under the car seat the night before.

 

Again Five laid restless, plagued by everything. His friends had died. He had no home. They were being tracked by a machine. He felt utter despair and hurt, his heart broken. Six was desperate to make him feel better without words, and nuzzled against Five's forehead and chest. He rubbed his sides and carefully kissed his hands, but decided maybe words _could_ help after all so told him “It is okay, they are okay.”

 

Five couldn't speak well, so all he choked out was “It's not.”

 

Six fretted and kept trying.

 

They left again as soon as the sun allowed them to see. The steeple was so much closer, now. In a few hours, Two assured, they would come upon it. The towering building would hopefully be intact enough to settle in. The group wouldn't be too picky. It was nice to have a destination at the least.

 

The sun was beating down upon their backs, their joints squeaking softly from such tremendous use. The clouds had moved on in the night and left them with lightly dusted skies of dirty blue. So despite the tension and unsettled feeling among the group, things had a bit more cheer to them. Five could not feel optimistic, especially not with a scrap off Seven's hide nestled in his bag. Six made sure to always hold his hand.

 

They wandered over a mound of debris, and Two grinned in elation. He shaded the glare from the sun with his hand and swooped his arm in toward himself, asking the others to come to the top with him. “Look there!” he pointed as they met him. “In full sight! A cathedral.”

 

One was pleased, akimbo. “Cathedral, huh?” he asked.

 

Two nodded. “Yes, I thought perhaps a church. Now I see it's more. Cathedrals are bigger. They were made to show the massiveness of the gods, and to allow the light inside.”

 

That pleased One further, and he even offered a smile. Five couldn't help feeling a little better upon seeing the glorious sight, and Six jerked Five's arm with excitement. Eight crossed his arms and hummed, as if examining it.

 

They had their moment, so they continued forward. It still towered in the distance, but Two suggested that if they picked up the pace they would be at the door in no more then half an hour.

 

One and Eight took the lead now, simply ready for this exodus to end. Everyone was so full of hope that even the dull ache of grief eased, knowing that they were so, so close.

 

As he watched the towering beacon come further into his sights, Five could not help but let his mind wander. So, this was what life was? What it always would be? Wandering. Wandering like Six before his discovery, like the beast at their tail, like his own jumbled mechanical mind. He wondered if settling for good would ever be truly possible, and if the humans themselves ever settled permanently.

 

Seven and the twins would certainly wander no more. He felt his emotions twist and twirl unhappily. Before him was a new life, and behind him friends he could never forget. Eventually the universe would forget them, but Five could never see himself letting Seven's face fade from his mind.

 

He remembered the way Three and Four used to prod at Six, and despite how it always bugged the stripped doll, the memory made him smile with cold nostalgia. He could not believe they were gone. But they were.

 

He had no more time to think, as Six was pulling at his hand and back to reality.

 

“Five?”

 

Five hummed in response.

 

How was he supposed to communicate to Five that all was well, that this was what was meant to be? He saw the world as the river it was. It branched into various outcomes, feeding into patches of thirsty grass and wild clover. The plants around them were dead, but the ones inside his head would forever be growing and changing.

 

Couldn't Five see that? Couldn't he see the good in the world? Even if they were scared, they were together. And even if they died, they would still hold hands. Six would still kiss him, ever in awe of his bravery, ever in love with the gentle way he spoke.

 

“We are alive,” was what came out, barely a fraction of what he'd been thinking.

 

Five's face softened down at him, but there was pain there. “Yeah.”

 

Six grinned and nodded. Five didn't know how it was possible for the other to look so happy.

 

“And new home, with you.”

 

That received a more genuine smile from the one-eye. “Yeah, with you,” he squeezed Six's hand.

 

“Look,” called Two, pointing. “We're here! We made it!”

 

“Not yet,” One grumped, still shuffling on. “We must get inside before we're safe.”

 

The whole of the cathedral was impossible to see from the foot of the building. It was absolutely huge. And right across from it, resting on the same campus, was a library. Just as wide, but much more squat.

 

As they made it inside the holy building's doors, Two chattered quietly about how the sheer height alone could keep them safe. All they had to do was climb up into its head.

 

“No machine could follow us there,” Five agreed, optimistic.

 

“Let's find somewhere safe tonight. Tomorrow we will work on rising up, away from the ground.”

 

They found their safety in a far corner closed off by debris. Slipping under fallen stone, they were able to rest somewhat comfortably in the nook during the night. One took a blanket, Two took a blanket, and Five and Six continued to share the last. Eight kept guard during the pitch black night.

 

This place was much creepier than their previous home. It was wide open and terribly cold, wind flowing through it like a cave. Five had a hard time imaging it as anything more than uncomfortable. There was surely no way they could enclose it and make it cozy. It would never match up to their hole in the wall.

 

Still, fate led them here, and here was where they would stay. Even uncomfortable could be safe. Though he could not see him, Five knew Two was laying awake and thinking up creative ways to hoist them into the upper levels.

 

Six turned in the dark, facing him.

 

“Can't sleep?” asked Five, barely above a whisper.

 

Six shook his head.

 

“Me either. It's creepy and c-cold here. Listen... hear that?”

 

Somewhere in the distance the _plink... plink... plink_ of dripping water droplets could be distinctly heard. Some place in this massive human construction was leaking water, of all things. Water didn't even run to these buldings anymore.

 

Five hugged himself and shuttered. He heard Six sigh and shuffle in closer, wrapping his arm across Five's chest. It made Five much warmer, and he smiled lopsidedly with blooming affection. Since he had known Six, they just had this connection. Sometimes he still felt like they were attached to that string; the one he'd used to fish Six through the cracks in the wooden boards, back home.

 

Right, that wasn't home any longer.

 

“How are we supposed to make this place liveable? Or safe? Or.. w-well, how do we make it _home_?” he whispered, nuzzling Six's moppy hair.

 

Six smiled against his burlap. He cuddled closer and replied “Together.”

 

That was all Five needed for the sun to rise again within his tired, restless body.

 


	17. Epilogue

He was always reading between the lines. Folding the paper in half to form a new conclusion, like wrinkling space time to travel the stars. He saw himself under the night sky, leaning over the edge as his partner charted the dots beside his elder mentor. He saw the way that fire fought the moon for rights to glisten against scuffed optic metals. He saw his friends, tucked away, just across the campus- or- or somewhere. They were somewhere, but it was nearby. Six felt it.

The wall wasn't missed. He could coil and tangle into blankets anywhere, and as long as Five was beside him, he was home. Yes, he felt the way sadness prickled his visions at night; an outstretched hand, a strange stitchpunk watching him fall deeply into a forgotten canyon. There was some vague knowledge of the coming of things, though he was never sure how soon they were to happen. Could be hours, could be years. At the very least, he knew it couldn't happen today. And that was enough.

Two and Five were working on a makeshift lift to bypass the broken and steep stairs. Without Seven, Eight was always on watch, and he looked stressed. One kept onto him and scavenged within eyesight. The coward was too afraid to wander further in fear the beast would take him, as well. Six kept out of the way. If he were to scavenge too, he knew he would lose himself. And then where would he be? Where would Five be? No, he would stay put.

Five's soft voice drug him from his thoughts.

"Six? Can you hand me that rope?" he asked, his dilated, dark pupil imploring.

Taking a moment to process, he gave a nod. Six scrambled to find the rope, then trotted and bestowed it with great enthusiasm. He was happy to be a help.

Five smiled genuinely, and the hunched doll's soul melted. He patted Six's shoulder. "Thanks."

"Welcome!"

The other kept eye contact a moment longer than was considered normal, before turning back to aid a smirking Two.

Six fidgeted with his ink-chipped fingers. He let his once more unfocused eyes sweep across the open space of the lower cathedral, drinking in the light that poured from the scars in its side. Between the open wounds, he could see the dusty blue of the sky. Clouds flittered in and out, animating the light beams against the stone.

He heard One grumble irritably towards Eight about never, ever running off to get killed like Seven. And, Six thought, that was certainly an interesting way to say he cared. Behind Six, Two tinked his hands together quietly with excitement.

"I think we almost got it, boy!"

Nothing bad could happen; none of his inky visions would impede his happy heart today. For today he saw a clear sky, and tonight he would again be nestled against the side of a button. If there were evil intentions between the lines, then he certainly had not read any. It could wait. At least until the watchtower was completed, whenever that was to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finishing this, since having abandoned it in 2015, is a funny feeling. It feels like the ending of an era for me to have finally wrapped this up. I love 9 and always will. 5/6 is even one of my very first gay ships, way back when I hadn't yet realized why I never liked boys the same way I liked girls. In 2014 I started college and was open about it. Then in 2015 I started dating the one who was to become my fiance. Time is supposedly linear, but it never feels that way in your memory.


End file.
